Medicine is supposed to protect human life and dignity. Yet testimonies from Ukrainians released from Russian captivity reveal a disturbing reality: medical personnel in places of detention have not only denied prisoners necessary treatment but, in documented cases, participated in torture and ill-treatment.

Anna Trushova

The research draws on testimonies from 16 people released from Russian captivity, including former detainees and medical professionals. Their accounts describe the denial of medical assistance, the neglect of serious injuries and illnesses, degrading treatment, and the concealment of evidence of violence. Some testimonies describe medical personnel directly participating in acts of torture.

One of the most troubling findings is the consistency of these accounts. Previous reports have documented abuses by medical staff, but this research systematically examines testimonies alongside the legal and regulatory framework governing medical professionals in Russia. Its findings suggest that the violations cannot be dismissed as isolated misconduct.

Russian medical personnel are bound not only by international humanitarian law and professional medical ethics but also by domestic rules that require them to provide care and to refrain from causing harm. The documented abuses, therefore, raise questions about violations of both international obligations and Russia’s own legal standards.

The consequences extend far beyond the detention facilities. People returning from captivity often require prolonged medical treatment and rehabilitation. Their families, meanwhile, must cope with the lasting effects of imprisonment, serious illness, and loss.

Sofia Krokhmaliuk, whose father, Oleksandr Krokhmaliuk, headed the Azov brigade’s medical service and died in captivity, described the pain of receiving his body back in Ukraine. She said the condition of his remains indicated that he had not died of natural causes.

Another family has spoken about the consequences that can persist after release. Ukrainian serviceman Oleksandr Savov spent more than 1,000 days in Russian captivity and returned home on March 19, 2025. He died of heart failure on November 16 that year, aged 46. His daughter, Anastasiia Savova, has emphasized that release does not mean the end of a crime: its consequences can last for the rest of a person’s life.

These stories demonstrate why the right to medical care in captivity cannot be treated as a secondary humanitarian concern. For people held in conditions where they have little or no access to independent assistance, medical care may be essential to their survival. Its deliberate denial can itself become a form of cruel treatment.

The Center for Civil Liberties’ research adds another dimension by examining the role of medical personnel within this system. It also reinforces the need to document individual responsibility and preserve evidence for future investigations and prosecutions.

Accountability is possible, even when it takes years. Thorough documentation can help identify those responsible, establish patterns of abuse, and provide evidence for national and international legal proceedings. Impunity, by contrast, creates conditions in which violations can continue.

That is why more than 90 Ukrainian organizations and institutions have appealed to the World Health Organization (WHO), urging it to respond to the systematic denial of medical care and the documented involvement of medical personnel in torture and ill-treatment.

The appeal calls for stronger international monitoring of detention facilities, including through cooperation with the International Committee of the Red Cross, United Nations mechanisms, and independent medical organizations. It also urges support for documenting abuses, identifying those responsible, and securing medical evacuation for severely wounded and seriously ill prisoners of war and unlawfully detained civilians.

The WHO cannot replace international investigators or courts. But its professional authority and international reach can help bring these violations to the attention of the global medical community and strengthen calls for independent access, accountability, and protection.

The immediate priority must be to help those still held in captivity receive the medical care they need. At the same time, the international community must ensure that allegations of medical personnel participating in torture are investigated rather than ignored.

Medicine must never become an instrument of repression. When those entrusted with protecting life become involved in abuse, the response must extend beyond professional condemnation. It must include independent monitoring, effective pressure, evidence preservation, and accountability.

For Ukrainians who remain in Russian captivity, these measures are not abstract questions of ethics or international law. They may determine whether they receive treatment, whether their suffering is documented, and whether they live to return home.

Anna Trushova is human rights defender and communications manager at the Center for Civil Liberties

IPS UN Bureau

The awarding of the 2026 Nobel Peace Prize to distinguished South African jurist and international judge Navanethem “Navi” Pillay is about more than just the recognition of an exceptional individual in the global fight for justice.

Navi Pillay-Credit: UN Photo/Mark Garten

Pillay’s recognition affirms the conviction that international law, however imperfectly applied, remains indispensable to a peaceful world.

Making history

It is a proud moment for South Africa. She becomes the fifth South African to receive this honour, following resistance leader Chief Albert Luthuli in 1960, religious leader and activist Archbishop Desmond Tutu in 1984, and former presidents Nelson Mandela and FW de Klerk in 1993.

She is the first South African woman to receive the peace award. Her prize is a further break with its historical tendency to mostly honour “highly educated white men from Europe and the US”.

Similar to her South African predecessors, the struggle against apartheid and white minority rule features as a crucial element of her contribution. However, there is an important difference. While Mandela became a global symbol of reconciliation, Pillay took the lessons of South Africa’s struggle into the international arena. There she became leader and institution builder in her own right.

She had the daunting task of being one of the very first international judges responsible for forging into being international institutions intended to ensure that those responsible for the gravest human rights violations are held accountable.

She was on the first bench of judges of both the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, established by the United Nations (UN) following the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, and the International Criminal Court (ICC) from 2003 to 2008.

Her personality and drive endowed these fledgling institutions with gravitas and legitimacy. Through her pioneering contributions, she has come to personify the global quest for accountability.

The Navi Pillay I know

As a scholar of international human rights law, I first met Pillay when she was president of the Rwanda tribunal in Arusha, Tanzania. She struck me then, and over time continued to impress me, as someone remarkably approachable. Humble, unassuming and generous with her time, she is also often described as courageous, principled, and unwavering.

I smiled when, in her characteristically down-to-earth reply to the Nobel committee praising her courage, she insisted she was merely applying her independent legal mind to the stark principles of justice.

When I first met her, I was with a group of human rights students from the University of Pretoria visiting Tanzania to observe proceedings. Judge Pillay’s demanding schedule prevented her from spending much time with us during the day. Yet she offered to meet us at her hotel that evening. To our surprise, she arrived driving herself, without a chauffeur or an entourage. She spent many hours answering questions and discussing the work of the tribunal.

Similar encounters continued over subsequent years. To me, these moments revealed her understanding of human rights institutions not as remote structures, but as belonging to people. This included young Africans who she hoped would one day help shape their future.

From apartheid to global justice

Pillay’s story is held together by a central belief, whether in response to apartheid in South Africa, genocide in Rwanda or the occupation of Palestinian territory: that law can restrain abusive power, protect victims and hold the powerful to account. She simply applied it on a bigger stage each time.

Born in 1941 in Durban, to a family of Indian Tamil origin, Pillay experienced racial and gender discrimination first-hand. Despite this, she built a legal career. In 1967 she became the first woman of colour to establish a legal practice in her province.

Like many lawyers opposed to apartheid, she sought to use the very legal system that sustained injustice to challenge its abuses. She represented political activists, exposed torture and challenged the treatment of political prisoners.

She was also involved in the Women’s National Coalition, which helped shape the equality provisions of South Africa’s democratic constitution. These prohibit discrimination on grounds including race, sex and sexual orientation. After apartheid ended, Mandela in 1995 appointed her as a High Court judge.

Rape as a crime against humanity

Later that year she took up office in Tanzania, where one of her most enduring global contributions came in the Rwanda tribunal’s landmark 1998 judgement.

During the trial of Jean-Paul Akayesu, accused of the slaughter of thousands, Pillay and another judge questioned witnesses about sexual violence. They helped bring these experiences into the open and contributed to the amendment of the indictment to include rape.

The result was a judgment that recognised rape as a crime against humanity. It established that rape and sexual violence could also constitute acts of genocide.

The decision constituted the first conviction for genocide by an international criminal tribunal and the first conviction of an individual for rape as a crime against humanity by such a tribunal. This opened the way for greater accountability for crimes committed disproportionately against women and girls.

As Pillay put it:

From time immemorial, rape has been regarded as spoils of war. Now it will be considered a war crime.

Human rights within the UN

From 2008 to 2014, Pillay served as UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, the first woman from the global south to hold this position.

It required a different form of leadership. Rather than deciding cases as a judge, she had to engage governments, confront violations and persuade states to honour their international obligations. During her tenure, she managed to steer the UN’s human rights work through turbulent times, including the aftermath of the global financial crisis, the Arab Spring, and civil war in Syria. Her voice was a steadfast pillar of clarity: human rights could not be sacrificed to economic expediency, national sovereignty or political convenience.

Her tenure coincided with significant advances within the UN. She was a consistent advocate for the rights of equality based on sexual orientation and gender identity, anti-discrimination laws, and proper recording of hate crimes.

In 2001, her home city, Durban, hosted the UN’s World Conference against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance. The Durban Declaration set an international agenda against racism and xenophobia. It also acknowledged slavery as a crime against humanity.

Although she had no official role in the 2001 conference, as UN high commissioner she was closely involved in the subsequent review process. She defended the declaration against misrepresentation. She emphasised its condemnation of antisemitism, remembrance of the Holocaust and recognition of Israel’s right to security.

Despite boycotts by several western states, including the US, she helped steer the 2009 Durban Review Conference towards a consensus reaffirming the declaration, supported by 182 states. Her role exemplified her determination to overcome division and backlash without compromising fundamental human rights principles.

Pillay’s term was also characterised by a distinctive contribution to women’s rights by championing the recognition of preventable maternal deaths as a human rights issue, rather than merely a public health concern. Under her leadership, the UN Human Rights Office developed groundbreaking guidance in 2012 requiring governments to address discrimination, maternal healthcare and accountability for avoidable deaths.

Palestine and genocide

More recently, she took up her last official UN duty as chair of the Independent International Commission of Inquiry on the Occupied Palestinian Territory and Israel. The commission’s investigations and findings, including on the war in Gaza, have generated considerable controversy and strong criticism, particularly from Israel and the US.

Her dedication to this task illustrates an essential feature of her work: the application of legal principles becomes most difficult, and most necessary, when politically powerful actors reject scrutiny.

A time when hope is needed

The timing of this award is therefore particularly telling. It comes as, only days earlier, US president Donald Trump had called the ICC “evil” and urged all its members to resign. Responding to the prize, the US imposed sanctions on the ICC.

By honouring a former ICC judge, the Nobel committee chose to defend the very institutions that are now “under attack”, with their judges “sanctioned”.

The award also comes amid Israel’s growing international isolation. Pillay and her team concluded in 2025 that Israel was committing genocide in Gaza.

The commission’s findings do not constitute a binding judicial determination. But they do represent a significant contribution to documenting alleged atrocities and advancing the pursuit of accountability, despite intense political opposition.

Even as Pillay recently celebrated her 85th birthday, she may soon have another word on genocide. Since 2019, she has been sitting as an ad hoc judge at the International Court of Justice in the case brought by The Gambia against Myanmar concerning alleged genocide against the Rohingya. Following a public hearing in January 2026, a judgment in this case is expected later this year, or in early 2027.

Her Nobel Prize does not suggest that international justice has triumphed. But it reminds us that the structures built to advance it remain worth defending. Recognising Pillay is an affirmation of what has been achieved, but also about what must not be lost.

Frans Viljoen – Professor of International Human Rights Law, SARChI Chair in International Constitutional Law, University of Pretoria

This story was originally published by The Conversation.

IPS UN Bureau

Credit: Tosin Olowoleni

By Saheed Babajide Owonikoko
YOLA, Nigeria, Oct 7 2026 (IPS)

Following the mass abduction of 46 pupils and teachers in Oyo State, south-west Nigeria in 2026, the authorities attributed the attack to the Ansaru terrorist group. Key suspects were prosecuted and handed prison terms. But this was not the first time terrorist groups had engaged in mass abduction of school pupils in Nigeria. Peace and security researcher Saheed Babajide Owonikoko explains what factors could have motivated the Ansaru terror group to stage that attack and what lessons Nigeria should take away from the incident, which lasted 56 days.

What can Nigeria learn from the mass kidnap of school children in Oyo State?

The lessons can be deduced from the differences between the incident and others that have taken place in Nigeria.

The first striking difference is that northern Nigeria was previously the centre of kidnapping incidents in Nigeria. As of 1 June 2026, there had been 31 mass school kidnapping incidents involving over 2,530 people in Nigeria since the 2014 Chibok incidents.

Terrorists had struck before in south-western Nigeria. Also, criminal kidnappings on the highway had taken place, but not a mass school kidnapping. The Oyo State school kidnapping is the first in the southern parts of Nigeria. The lesson is that terrorism is expanding beyond the traditional areas known for activities of terrorist groups.

Another difference is that the victims included children as young as two years. Most previous Nigerian mass school abductions targeted older students.

The third is that it involved multiple schools. My contact in Ogbomosho said three schools were attacked.

This suggests the vulnerability of civilian populations and institutions in areas previously regarded as less exposed to terrorist kidnapping. The targeting of particular groups, especially schoolchildren and other populations whose abduction is likely to generate public pressure, also provides terrorists with a strategic advantage. Such attacks will be easy to execute by the group and can trigger public outrage, protests and demands for government action. They could put pressure on authorities to negotiate or make concessions.

Victims have now been “released” or “rescued”, most probably without concession to any of their demands, and some people linked to the incidents have been put on trial. But the ease with which the group carried out the attack exposes the vulnerability of the south-west and other non-traditional theatres of terrorist kidnapping to sudden attacks, particularly where security presence and response capacity remain limited.

Concentrating security in volatile areas may not be the solution, as terrorist groups will always take advantage of vulnerable areas.

What factors motivated this kidnap?

Criminal bandits and terrorists are responsible for most of the high-profile kidnapping incidents in Nigeria. However, while bandits kidnap mostly for money, terrorists mostly kidnap for more strategic reasons.

The 15 May 2026 armed attack against schools in Oriire Local Government of Oyo State, leading to the abduction of over 40 people, most of whom were pupils and teachers, was carried out by The Vanguard for the Protection of Muslims in Black Africa, popularly known as Ansaru. Since its breakaway from Boko Haram in 2013, Ansaru has acquired the trademark of being involved in high-profile kidnapping and hostage-taking, sometimes with the support of bandits.

Ansaru’s involvement in the Oyo State kidnapping was confirmed by the group’s demands. The group listed its demands as follows:

• • 1 billion naira to be paid to one account in the Benin Republic

• • the Oyo state government should release their members from prison

• • Toyota Hiluxes

• concession of some Oyo state laws in favour of the bandits (land and sharia law).

The second item is particularly informative. In August 2025, Nuhu Ribadu, Nigeria’s national security adviser, announced the arrest of two key Ansaru leaders – Mahmud Muhammad Usman, the amir (leader) and Mahmud al-Nigeri, the deputy and chief of staff.

They are currently standing trial on terrorism charges. For a long time, Ansaru remained silent due to the leadership vacuum left as a result. Their strategic importance made the group stage the Oyo kidnapping incidents.

In one of my previous articles, I warned that, given the importance of these two leaders, they might attempt to secure their release through a prison break or resort to a high-profile kidnapping or hostage-taking operation, either in retaliation for their detention or as leverage to demand their release.

What makes the south-west vulnerable to these kinds of attacks?

The choice of Oyo State and the kidnapping of pupils are also strategic. Oyo State is vulnerable because of its proximity to the North Central and North East through savannah woodlands, wildlife reserves and riparian vegetation.

Movement from North Central and North West to the south may also be caused by low security expectations and reduced military pressure there.

A reduction in expertise due to the arrest of Mahmud Muhammad Usman and Mahmud al-Nigeri also affected Ansaru’s operational effectiveness in high-intensity security terrain, making the south more attractive.

Ansaru usually targets high-value civilians, including expatriates, well-to-do individuals and humanitarian workers. They kidnapped schoolchildren because of their vulnerability and also because it can spark public outrage that may force the government to give concessions.

Does this incident have any implications for the ongoing debate on state policing in Nigeria?

According to the government account, the rescue of the schoolchildren and their teachers was achieved through a prolonged, intelligence-led, multi-agency operation. Although the outcome shows state security institutions can mount a coordinated response, it raises questions about whether such resource-intensive operations can be sustained and replicated in similar incidents.

More fundamentally, the operation illustrates the reactive character of the response. Security agencies mobilised resources after the abduction rather than preventing the attack or detecting the threat earlier. This is where the debate over the state police is very important. One of the major problems with Nigeria’s security landscape is the centralisation of the security apparatus, leaving the federating units at the mercy of the federal government to deploy security forces.

To reduce the vulnerability of civilians everywhere in Nigeria, the police institution should be federalised. This will ensure that a minimum level of protection exists for everyone, wherever they live in Nigeria.

Saheed Babajide Owonikoko is Researcher, Centre for Peace and Security Studies, Modibbo Adama University of Technology

This story was originally published by The Conversation.

IPS UN Bureau

Social Democratic Party leader Magdalena Andersson speaks at the Social Democrats’ election night party in Stockholm on 13 September 2026. Credit: Jonas Ekstromer/TT News Agency/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Oct 5 2026 (IPS)

Four years ago, Sweden’s far right became the power behind a right-wing government. This time, it expected further gains and cabinet seats. But voters turned against it. In the 13 September general election, support for the far-right Sweden Democrats fell for the for the first time in the party’s history. Four days later, Prime Minister Ulf Kristersson resigned, leaving the way clear for the centre-left Social Democrats to negotiate a coalition. But the Sweden Democrats’ defeat will prove hollow if the next government maintains the hostility towards migrants that has come to characterise Sweden’s politics.

The Sweden Democrats originated in the country’s violent neo-Nazi movement. Established parties long refused to cooperate, but the centre-right Moderate Party broke the firewall in 2019, when it announced it was willing to work with it. In the 2022 election, the Sweden Democrats came second with 20.5 per cent of the vote. The Moderate Party came third but was able to form a minority government. The Sweden Democrats didn’t receive cabinet seats, but entered into a formal agreement with the governing parties, which relied on its votes.

Having brought the Sweden Democrats into the political mainstream, Kristersson went further in April, when he said his aim was to form a majority government with the Sweden Democrats and promised them cabinet posts, potentially giving them control of immigration policies. The announcement made clear how central to Swedish politics the Sweden Democrats had become.

Hostility written into law

The Sweden Democrats framed its hostility towards migrants as a defence of the country’s envied living standards, underpinned by its extensive social welfare system. This time it promised to ‘make Sweden Sweden again’, in a campaign marked by instances of blatant Islamophobia.

Sweden saw a sharp increase in the number of asylum seekers and migrants in 2010, particularly from war-torn Syria. Political parties and media have repeatedly blamed migrants for crime and economic and social problems.

As the Sweden Democrats picked up electoral support, established parties adopted increasingly anti-migrant policies to try to see off the political threat. The same thing has happened in other European countries, with the same effect. Mainstream parties legitimised the anti-migrant agenda and brought the far-right challenger into the political mainstream, while voters tended to prefer the original to the copy. In Sweden, conditions for migrants have worsened under successive governments.

Restrictive policies preceded the 2022 government, but intensified under it. Ahead of the election, the government passed a new set of anti-migrant laws. These removed any route to permanent residency for people with asylum status, offering only temporary residency permits. They introduced a broadly defined ‘good behaviour’ clause that allows authorities to refuse residency permits for non-criminal offences and revoke permits already granted.

On top of this, what’s commonly called the ‘snitch law’ obliges some categories of public employees to report people they suspect of being undocumented migrants. This may deter migrants from using essential public services, such as healthcare, for fear of being reported. Because the law is broad and vague, it will also encourage self-censorship, as migrants may feel less able to take part in protests or speak out online. This effectively creates a two-tier system for civic freedoms and risks introducing a default racial profiling system. Troublingly, other EU countries are reportedly watching how Sweden’s hostile new laws play out, with a view to copying them.

A fragmented result

Crime and migration were campaign issues, but didn’t dominate the debate, as voters also focused heavily on the economy, education and healthcare. After many years at the top of the agenda, migration may be receding as a political issue, revealing the Sweden Democrats as having little else to offer. The party’s four four years of sustaining a government also made it harder to run an anti-establishment campaign, while a scandal linking a party official to Russia may also have cost it.

Results point to a further political fragmentation. The Social Democrats also lost seats, recording its lowest vote share in over a century, while smaller parties gained support, with the Green and Left parties particularly attracting young voters.

The two major political blocs are holding coalition negotiations. Neither faces an easy task. A four-party coalition led by the Social Democrats would command 176 seats, just above the 175 needed for a majority, while a four-party coalition on the right would claim only 173. But significant policy differences mean agreement can’t be taken for granted. Determination to keep the Sweden Democrats out may galvanise the four into an agreement but may not be enough to sustain it in the long term.

Even if the Social Democrats prevail, a significant change of direction on migrants’ rights is unlikely. The party has expressed support for many recent anti-migrant policies. The political rhetoric may soften, but the situation could mirror that of neighbouring Denmark, where the Social Democrats, having long adopted anti-migrant policies, retained power in the March election despite having its worst result in over 120 years.

A chance to change course

Progressive voices urgently need to start making a more positive case that tells human stories and asserts the human rights of migrants, and that builds understanding of the causes of migration and appreciation of the benefits migrants can bring, from the public service jobs Sweden’s social welfare service relies on to the economic contributions migrants make.

Sweden’s civil society must be heard. Civil society organisations are providing practical help to migrants and going to the courts and European bodies to challenge the worst impacts of regressive laws. They know what’s needed to curb the hostility, make Swedish society fairer and restore the country’s hard-earned global reputation as a human rights champion.

The Sweden Democrats’ loss of support shows there’s nothing inevitable or unstoppable about the rise of the far right. If Sweden’s next government listens to civil society instead of continuing to imitate the far right, it has a chance to show Europe that it’s possible to roll back the far right’s agenda.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

 
CIVICUS discusses life as a refugee with an exiled Sudanese civil society activist who has asked to remain anonymous for security reasons.

Over three years into Sudan’s war, millions of people have been displaced, both within the country and beyond its borders, and the numbers keep rising. Fighting continues to force civilians from their homes, while those who reach neighbouring countries struggle to find safety and stability. Civil society warns that, despite the scale of the suffering, Sudan’s crisis isn’t receiving the international attention it deserves. Exiles document violations and advocate for democracy and peace.

What drew you to human rights activism, and how has exile changed it?

The gender-based injustice women face in our societies drew me to human rights work. From childhood, I objected to the unequal treatment of girls and boys and the stereotypes that painted women as less capable. I rebelled against this system, seeking out books, stories and real-life experiences that showed women’s capabilities and potential.

Activism in exile, particularly during wartime, brings unending and unexpected risks and challenges. At times, it feels like you are fighting to survive. You carry the trauma of war and the guilt of being safe while your family and community remain in danger. Many human rights defenders lack the basic resources to survive.

In exile, I have moved from a radical stance to one focused on reform, having learned that dogmatism, hostility and refusal to listen can lead to violence and grave human rights violations. I have become more deliberate in my judgements, with a stronger desire to understand the other side.

How has Sudanese civil society adapted since the war began?

Sudanese civil society has shown remarkable resilience. People mobilised to confront the war and the collapse of state institutions. Within hours, young people and volunteers were helping the wounded, homes became field clinics and communities shared their resources.

As the war continued, many civil society organisations relocated abroad. One of the most remarkable aspects of the Sudanese experience has been the emergence of numerous additional human rights, humanitarian, women’s and youth organisations in host countries. They have maintained links with activists inside Sudan, monitored human rights and documented violations, provided humanitarian assistance, advocated for peace, promoted dialogue and countered hate speech.

Civil society’s work, inside Sudan and abroad, is one of the few sources of hope for peace in the country.

What barriers do Sudanese civil society activists and organisations face in exile?

Refugees face insecurity and a rising wave of xenophobia in host countries, and many feel unwelcome, or even blamed for seeking safety in a country where they are made to feel they don’t belong. Many also face movement restrictions, difficulties renewing residency documents and the constant risk of deportation.

On top of this, activists carry the added burden of propaganda that portrays them as fugitives or foreign agents. We must confront the abuses we document while also countering division, hatred, intolerance and racism.

Civil society organisations abroad also face economic, legal and security restrictions. Many struggle to register legally, open bank accounts, access funding or obtain permits.

Compounding all this are the limited international support and the sense that global decision-makers, and even international human rights organisations, don’t prioritise our concerns. This can leave you feeling that you simply don’t matter.

What needs to change to stop displacement silencing activists and refugees in general?

The global system often seems designed to protect the strong while weakening the vulnerable. In Africa and across the global south, we seek to change this, yet we remain constrained by the structures and assumptions of the system. We need to see difference as a source of diversity rather than division, share responsibility for resources and security, and protect everyone’s rights to life, development, dignity and freedom.

As a Sudanese refugee and human rights defender, I strongly support the Borderless Africa campaign, led by the pan-African civil society movement Africans Rising, which calls for visa-free travel and a single continental passport across Africa. It reflects the need to move beyond borders and put humanity and fundamental rights first.

It’s shocking to be forced into silence about crimes you have witnessed simply because you are a refugee. Governments, civil society and activists must dismantle the legal and logistical barriers that leave refugees unable to access basic rights.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

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Sudan: ‘Crossing a border doesn’t automatically mean you’re safe’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Rawia Saad 09.Sep.2026
Sudan: blood on the hands of foreign powers CIVICUS Lens 04.Sep.2026
Sudan in crisis: mass killings continue while the world looks away CIVICUS Lens 23.Dec.2025

Mariam Daher preparing for her Tawjihi examinations in the temporary learning spaces in Gaza. Credit: Education Above All Foundation

By Hani Shehada
DOHA, Qatar, Oct 2 2026 (IPS)

In the 21st century, getting a pencil into Gaza became international news. In January, after more than two years of restrictions, UNICEF finally brought in learning kits with pencils and exercise books. Textbooks stayed out. By then, the UN had recorded damage to 97.5 per cent of Gaza’s schools.

If a pencil makes headlines, consider what a national examination demands: question papers printed for thousands of students, answer sheets scanned, halls furnished and staffed. In Gaza, education officials started by pulling damaged photocopiers from beneath the rubble, stripping their usable parts and rebuilding enough machines to keep the exam alive. It worked. More than 95,000 students have sat the Tawjihi, the national secondary school examination that decides who can compete for a university place.

This week, world leaders gathered at the UN General Assembly under the banner of “a United Nations that delivers for all“. The effort behind Gaza’s examination poses an uncomfortable question to that promise: when does celebrating a solution make it easier to tolerate the problem? Scholars writing from Gaza have warned that praising Palestinian resilience reassures outside observers and releases them from the duty to act.

At a school damaged by the war near Mashrou’ Amer in southwestern Gaza City, Education Above All Foundation and UNDP have established 10 temporary learning spaces. Credit: Education Above All Foundation

Israel classifies thousands of items as “dual-use“, spare parts among them, and bars or limits their entry. Technicians harvested parts from other machines. Repairing the printers and scanners took more than 90 days. The printers ran on old ink stocks, because new ink faced restrictions too. Until recently, paper itself could not enter Gaza.” and drop the fallback plan after it.

Exam halls also needed seats and desks. Little wood reaches Gaza. Carpenters build tables from scrap and shipping pallets, and families burn whatever they find to cook and keep warm. Staff repaired chairs and desks with timber from the pallets that carry aid. Every liter of fuel for an examination center required coordination. All of it happened under strikes that never fully stopped, which have killed more than 1,300 Palestinians in Gaza since the ceasefire took effect.

An examination also needs people. Every center needed invigilators while many education staff receive only a fraction of their salary. Before assigning anyone, the ministry first had to establish who was still alive. The war has killed more than 21,000 students and educational staff since October 2023.

A school teacher leads a lesson inside one of Gaza’s temporary learning spaces established by Education Above All Foundation and UNDP.
Credit: Education Above All Foundation

This year, Gaza’s candidates took the Tawjihi online, many on phones in tents and cafés, while the ministry worked to bring the exam back into halls. With support from the State of Qatar, Education Above All Foundation, UNDP and the ministry have set up 110 learning spaces, partly for that purpose. Planners intended these spaces, a mix of prefabricated units and tents, as a transition. Gaza’s students are using them for years, while sun, heat, humidity and cold wear them down.

Gaza’s people now crowd into less than 40 per cent of the Strip. Crews must clear rubble and check for unexploded ordnance before they can build. When they clear land for a learning space, displaced families can move onto it and stay. Others shelter in partly destroyed buildings. A school site now competes with the most basic need of all: somewhere to live.

Picture one of those 95,000 candidates. She has studied for this exam for years, first at a desk at home, then by phone light in a tent. The war has taken her father, perhaps her mother too, and most of the family who would have waited for her results. She may walk on crutches where a leg used to be. Strikes still fall at night, and she revises anyway. All she wants is the chance to sit the exam. Behind that chance stand a salvaged photocopier, a rebuilt desk and a negotiated liter of fuel, each one liable to fail. The UN reports that shortages once managed through reuse have become unmanageable, and critical systems are failing. Judged against a cancelled examination, against a school able to order a replacement part, it reveals an avoidable burden.

I am from Gaza, and I work for one of the foundations that funds this response. That makes the question personal: have we become so used to celebrating what Palestinians can salvage that we no longer ask why they must salvage it? An examination held amid continuing strikes is an achievement. It is also evidence of a world that has allowed the conditions for education to be dismantled.

As the speeches in New York wind down, leaders can measure their words against practical tests. Let paper, printer parts, school furniture and textbooks into Gaza without months of negotiation. Fund classrooms built to last years, not seasons. Pay the teachers who keep the system running. Gaza’s educators have shown what they will do to keep education alive. The question before the world is what it would take for Gaza’s schools to stop needing miracles.

Hani Shehada, Palestinian from the Gaza Strip, and is Regional Manager at Education Above All Foundation’s Al Fakhoora programme.

IPS UN Bureau

Excerpt:

Media personnel watch a digital screen showing leaders of member states gather for a family photograph during the 18th BRICS Summit in New Delhi on 13 September 2026. Credit: Arun Sankar/AFP

By Samuel King and Inés M. Pousadela
BRUSSELS, Belgium / MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Sep 30 2026 (IPS)

At the 18th BRICS Summit, held on 12 and 13 September in New Delhi, India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi brought together presidents Xi Jinping of China, Vladimir Putin of Russia and Masoud Pezeshkian of Iran, along with Abu Dhabi’s Crown Prince, Sheikh Khaled bin Mohamed bin Zayed, representing the United Arab Emirates (UAE). Around the table sat longstanding rivals such as India and China and, in the case of Iran, Saudi Arabia and the UAE, states on opposite sides of an ongoing war. That the summit produced a joint declaration every member could sign was a modest multilateralist success.

The summit took place against a fast-changing backdrop. With the USA under Donald Trump an unreliable partner and often a hostile power bent on bullying others into submission, numerous states are seeking new alliances as a counterweight. BRICS, whose 11 members account for 49 per cent of the world’s population and 28 per cent of the global economy, could become a more significant forum as a result. But what is on offer is a profoundly old-fashioned, state-centric form of multilateralism, in which the people in whose name states claim to act have little say.

A hollow declaration

At the summit, Xi called for international rules to be ‘written by all countries’, even though he leads a one-party state where increasingly only he writes the rules. Putin urges greater representation for Africa, Asia and Latin America at the UN Security Council, while routinely wielding his veto to stop the council acting on his war in Ukraine.

The New Delhi Declaration’s silences speak loudest. It is explicit on Palestine, calling on Israel to end its war on Gaza and backing a Palestinian state based on the 1967 borders. But on the war in Iran, it only urges ‘maximum restraint’ without naming the warring parties, reflecting the fact that Iran, Saudi Arabia and the UAE sat around the same table. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is not mentioned at all, a regression from past declarations and a troubling sign that Putin has no interest in ending the fighting. The text condemns ‘indiscriminate rising tariffs’ and ‘unilateral sanctions’ without naming the USA, sparing the blushes of members such as India, which is reportedly finalising a trade deal with Washington. The declaration preserves consensus at the expense of resolve.

Closed civic space, open defiance

Most BRICS governments have no fear of being held domestically accountable for the compromises they have made. Civic space is closed in seven of BRICS’ 11 states and obstructed or repressed in the rest. Russia jails and exiles opposition voices and has made protest almost impossible. China subjects its people to mass surveillance and crushes any expression that departs from ruling-party lines. Iran violently suppresses protest movements, including through the death penalty. Saudi Arabia and the UAE recognise no legitimate role for independent civil society. Host and self-styled mediator India has seen Modi’s government erode press freedom, restrict civil society funding and stoke hostility towards religious minorities.

Domestic repression translates directly into a closed international forum. After 18 summits, BRICS still has no treaty, no published membership criteria, no permanent secretariat, no budget and no mechanism for civil society to hold its members to account. This is no accident. It leaves powerful leaders free to pursue their interests, and it means civil society has less influence in BRICS than in comparable blocs such as the G20, and much less than in UN processes.

Civil society mobilised regardless. Three weeks before the summit, over 200 delegates from farmers’ organisations, people’s movements, trade unions, women’s organisations and other civil society groups gathered in New Delhi for the People’s BRICS Summit. Its resolution denounced BRICS states for reproducing extractivist, inequitable development models, and insisted that cooperation between global south states be judged by the dignity and rights it delivers to people and communities, not by the freedom it grants states and capital. It called for debt restructuring, a publicly accountable energy transition, food sovereignty, universal social security, women’s political representation and an end to the persecution of civil society activists, and for BRICS to take a clear stand against military intervention, occupation and genocide. BRICS governments chose not to listen.

Ambition without accountability

BRICS’ biggest ambition, on display in the New Delhi Declaration, is to reshape international finance. Development of payment systems independent of the US dollar would chip away at the USA’s unique ability to sustain its power by printing more dollars, despite mountainous debt, to meet unceasing demand. But it would also let repressive states such as Iran and Russia sell oil and gas more easily, funding their repression while blunting international sanctions.

This ambition comes with no commitment to accountability. The bloc has no channel through which the people most affected by its decisions can make their voices heard, and no human rights conditions are attached to its initiatives.

None of the emerging responses to the rapidly changing international order promises to be more democratic than the current system. So far, neither BRICS nor any of the other alternatives now taking shape has matched its growing ambition with greater accountability.

Samuel King is a researcher at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation, working on ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition, a Horizon Europe-funded project. Inés M. Pousadela is CIVICUS Head of Research and Analysis, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report. She is also Professor of Comparative Politics at Universidad ORT Uruguay.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

A Rohingya refugee carries Myanmar's national flag during a Genocide Remembrance Day rally marking the anniversary of their mass exodus at a refugee camp in Bangladesh on 25 August 2026. Credit: Abdul Goni/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Sep 25 2026 (IPS)

On 15 September, Norwegian police and security services raided the headquarters of Telenor in Oslo. Authorities accuse the multinational telecoms company, majority owned by the Norwegian state, of aiding and abetting crimes against humanity in Myanmar and breaching sanctions.

Telenor sold its Myanmar subsidiary in March 2022, in the wake of the military coup that ousted the country’s democratically elected government in February 2021. An August 2025 Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation investigation reported that ahead of its exit, Telenor had complied with military requests to hand over customer data. It’s alleged that call log and location data may have helped the military track, capture and kill democracy activists, including campaigner Ko Jimmy, executed in July 2022.

Civil society warned of the dangers when Telenor prepared to sell its subsidiary to a joint venture between a Lebanese group and Thein Win Zaw, a Burmese entrepreneur accused of having close military ties. It has kept up the struggle for accountability. Justice for Myanmar, a covert activist group, worked with the International Commission of Jurists to collect documentary evidence on Telenor’s role and filed police complaints in December 2024 and October 2025.

Telenor is also subject to a lawsuit brought by a group of civil society organisations last October, alleging the company passed on data of over 1,200 people. In addition, the company has been found in breach of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development’s Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises on Responsible Business Conduct.

International complicity

The Telenor case focuses attention on the wider networks of companies and states that are propping up the regime and keeping Myanmar’s civil war going.

Following the coup, almost all states refused to recognise Myanmar’s military rulers and continued to regard the exiled National Unity Government as the country’s legitimate representative. But several authoritarian states have since swung behind the junta. Russia leads the pack, with Vladimir Putin hosting junta leader Min Aung Hlaing for repeat visits in Moscow. China, India, Singapore and Thailand have joined Russia in supplying weapons.

Many Chinese companies collaborate with the regime, among them Geedge Networks, a tech company with close links to the Chinese state that specialises in online surveillance. The company is helping the military install a version of China’s ‘great firewall’ so it can systematically restrict internet use, access users’ data and identify and track down dissenters.

The junta made a concerted effort to gain international legitimacy with a sham election in December 2025 and January 2026. It extensively prepared the ground by replacing the civilian electoral commission with a military-controlled body, banning pro-democracy parties and prohibiting political rallies, ensuring a military puppet party faced only token opposition. A new election law enabled it to criminalise over 300 people for criticising the election. Authorities jailed some merely for liking social media posts and handed 37-year sentences to eight activists for taking part in a protest calling for a boycott. There were also reports of threats to withhold aid from displacement camps unless people voted.

After the military’s party duly won, Min Aung Hlaing transitioned from general to civilian and became president in April. That same month, a group of civil society organisations filed a complaint against him in Indonesia over his role in the 2017 genocide of Rohingya people. Despite this legal action and the election’s evident lack of credibility, an array of non-democratic states including Belarus, China and Russia were happy to endorse the result.

While the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) didn’t recognise the election, its most authoritarian members, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam, backed it anyway, and the bloc has consistently stuck with its failed Five Point Consensus, a plan agreed with the junta in April 2021 that the military has never respected.

The US government has also shifted its position. In 2025, the Trump administration cut funding to independent Burmese media, lifted sanctions against junta-controlled businesses and arms dealers supplying the regime and removed protections from Burmese refugees living in the USA, citing governance improvements. It treated the junta as a legitimate counterpart by sending it a letter about tariffs. In May, it was revealed the junta gives Roger Stone, a long-time Donald Trump ally, US$50,000 a month to rebuild relations with the USA. Mineral deposits are likely in the Trump administration’s sights.

Civil war continues

The Telenor raid has momentarily brought Myanmar back into the headlines. Its civil war has otherwise gone on for almost five and a half years with little global attention. Sparked by the army’s violent suppression of democracy protests, it pits the military against armed pro-democracy forces, both backed by a variety of ethnic militia. The army controls the main population centres and has recently regained some territory, but there’s no end in sight.

The army has committed numerous crimes against humanity and war crimes. A September 2025 UN report painted a harrowing picture of airstrikes on schools and the destruction of villages. This year, the conflict has escalated across the Magway Region, with the army and associated militia mounting armed assaults on villages, burning homes and using drones to kill civilians, including children.

Recent escalations of conflict have driven further displacement. At the same time, monsoon rains across several regions in July and August caused floods that left villages isolated and increased disease risks. As needs have grown, the healthcare system is collapsing due to military attacks on facilities and workers, while humanitarian aid and vital health supplies are further constrained by military checkpoints, road closures and movement restrictions.

The Telenor case has the potential to challenge impunity. It should refocus the minds of democratic states and companies headquartered in them, offering a warning that they can be exposed for complicity in the junta’s atrocities. It should give fresh impetus to civil society’s efforts to hold states and companies to account. By standing with civil society, in Myanmar and around the world, democratic states can put themselves on the side of human rights and justice.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

Credit: Amanda Cotton / Ocean Image Bank

By Gareth Johnstone and Jan Thomas Odegard
OSLO, Norway, Sep 24 2026 (IPS)

As Norway undertakes Vendepunkt, or “Turning Point,” its reflection on the future of Norwegian development policy, it is critical that oceans remain a priority. Donors around the world are running similar audits, deciding which long-term partnerships to keep, and why. Norway has decades of expertise to offer, but also something significant at stake: healthy and well-governed oceans underpin food, livelihoods and economic activity in partner countries while supporting global seafood supply chains in which Norway itself participates.

West Africa demonstrates what sustained investment in oceans can achieve. More than a decade of cooperation on illegal fishing has helped countries strengthen their own capacity to monitor and protect their waters. But the ocean cannot be managed country by country. Fish stocks are shared, vessels move across borders, and climate change is shifting marine resources into new waters. Strong national capacity must therefore be matched by the ability of countries to cooperate.

That cooperation depends on the relationships between countries that allow information to be shared, trust to develop and authorities to act together. These relationships are not simply a by-product of capacity building. They are essential development infrastructures particularly when the resources being protected cross borders.

Gareth Johnstone

The connection between West Africa and Norway makes this tangible. Fish caught off West Africa enters international supply chains as fishmeal and fish oil, including feed used in aquaculture thousands of kilometres away. A fish caught off Guinea-Bissau can ultimately help feed a salmon in a Norwegian fjord. In one investigation supported by TMT, authorities took action against the factory vessel TIAN YI HE 6 after it received fish from a Turkish-flagged vessel, with the resulting fishmeal transported onwards to international markets. The case resulted in fines for unauthorized fishing operations, illegal transshipment and obstruction of inspectors.

Jan Thomas Odegard

Technology has transformed what fisheries authorities can do. An inspector can now examine a vessel’s movements and history before deciding whether it should enter port. Recorded use of the Vessel Tracking Tool, developed by fisheries intelligence organisaiton, TMT, more than doubled between 2024 and 2025.

Despite this, turning information into action requires trained officials, functioning institutions and trust between agencies and countries. In the West African region where TMT, and its partners have focused support, the relationships resulted in the deterrence of illegal fishing took more than a decade to build. An independent assessment by Poseidon Aquatic Resource Management of this work, supported by Norway, found that some of the strongest results came when governments shared information regionally.

One case began with a concern raised by a fisheries inspector in Ghana about the vessel NOVA ZEELANDIA. Officials in Côte d’Ivoire, Angola and South Africa checked their records and shared information. Angola subsequently fined associated trawlers for unauthorized transshipment and barred NOVA ZEELANDIA from its waters, while Cameroon separately fined the vessel owners US$2.1 million for breaches of inspection rules.

The vessel later changed its name and flag and remains in operation. It is a reminder that effective ocean governance requires sustained cooperation across jurisdictions.

Relationships are development infrastructure

Development programmes routinely count the numbers of people trained, systems established and institutions strengthened. The value of the relationships built alongside them is harder to measure. Yet a fisheries officer knowing who to contact in a neighbouring country can be as important as the technology on their desk.

These relationships take years to build and can be fragile. One or two funding cycles may establish a system or deliver training, yet they are less likely to embed the institutional memory, expertise and relationships that allow it to survive and adapt.

Long-running development partnerships and support should therefore not automatically be viewed as evidence that localisation has failed to materialise. A better test is whether they are evolving toward stronger national institutions, greater regional leadership and with less dependence on external technical expertise, while preserving cooperation where challenges remain shared.

Oceans belong in Norway’s Turning Point

Norway brings decades of experience in fisheries management, marine research and ocean governance. Norway is itself a fishing and aquaculture nation, connected through the same ocean systems and global seafood supply chains.

Norway’s investment in oceans can therefore combine locally led capacity with international cooperation because illegal vessels do not respect borders.

The evidence from West Africa shows why sustained investment matters. National enforcement capability and regional networks have been built over more than a decade. Withdrawing support before those systems are sufficiently resilient risks losing hard-won gains, continuing to invest allows national leadership to deepen and relationships to mature.

Norway’s challenge is not unique. Development partners are increasingly being asked to make harder choices and reduce dependency without dismantling the relationships and cooperation needed to address problems that are inherently international. As Turning Point asks where Norway has particular strengths and where its development cooperation can have greatest impact, oceans deserve a prominent place in the answer.

The question should not simply be which partnerships Norway can eventually leave. It should also be which are worth sustaining and deepening because the same fish stocks, vessels and networks are what is at stake. Strong national capacity and international relationships are not competing goals. One makes the other possible. And in an ocean that connects Guinea-Bissau’s fishing communities with Norway’s fjords, Norway has both the expertise and the interest to keep investing in both.

Gareth Johnstone is the Executive Director of Norwegian based fisheries intelligence organization, Trygg Mat Tracking (TMT). He has over 30 years’ experience as an environmental scientist, researcher and policy expert. He is also the former Director General of WorldFish.

Jan Thomas Odegard is a Norwegian environmental and development expert with 30 years’ experience spanning the UN, NGOs, private sector and research. He is co-founder and Chair of the Trygg Mat Tracking Board and former Secretary General of Friends of the Earth Norway.

IPS UN Bureau

Excerpt:

Credit: IAEA
 
IAEA’s 70th General Conference highlights growing strains on safeguards and nuclear security as attention shifts to the first review of the Nuclear Weapons Ban Treaty.

By Katsuhiro Asagiri
VIENNA, Sep 24 2026 (IPS)

The international nuclear order is facing another test as governments move from an inconclusive review of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) in New York to renewed disputes over safeguards and nuclear security in Vienna—and toward the first Review Conference of the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW) later this year.

The 70th General Conference of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), held in Vienna from September 14 to 18, came less than four months after the 11th NPT Review Conference ended without consensus on a substantive outcome.

It was the third consecutive NPT Review Conference, following those in 2015 and 2022, to conclude without agreement on substantive conclusions and recommendations—underscoring the growing difficulty of reaching consensus amid heightened nuclear risks and geopolitical tensions.

UN Secretary-General António Guterres expressed disappointment at the outcome while reaffirming the NPT as a cornerstone of the global nuclear disarmament and non-proliferation regime.

The IAEA does not negotiate nuclear disarmament. Its responsibilities include promoting the peaceful uses of nuclear energy and applying safeguards to verify that nuclear material is not diverted to nuclear weapons or other nuclear explosive devices.

Yet the issues confronting the Agency—from Iran and North Korea to Ukraine and naval nuclear propulsion—show how safeguards, nuclear security and armed conflict are increasingly intertwined with wider questions about the future of the international nuclear order.

Map of Iran

Iran remains one of the most difficult issues facing the Agency.

For the IAEA, the central question is not simply the political dispute surrounding Iran’s nuclear programme, but whether it can maintain the continuity and credibility of independent verification.

Restrictions on access and uncertainty surrounding nuclear material, including highly enriched uranium, have intensified concerns about the effectiveness of safeguards.

The issue has taken on an additional dimension following attacks on Iranian nuclear facilities. Beyond competing political and military claims lies a wider question for the international community: how can nuclear facilities—and the verification system surrounding them—be protected during armed conflict?

Ukraine Tests Nuclear Safety in Wartime

Ukraine presents another challenge.

The war has placed major nuclear facilities in or near areas of military operations, with the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant remaining at the centre of international concern.

The IAEA has maintained experts at the site as part of efforts to reduce risks to nuclear safety and security.

Russia and Ukraine have repeatedly accused each other of actions threatening nuclear installations. While those claims remain contested, the underlying issue extends beyond this war: international nuclear governance mechanisms must now operate in circumstances where a major nuclear facility can be exposed to prolonged armed conflict.

Water is used to cool processes at the Zaporizhzhya Nuclear Power Plant in Ukraine. Credit: IAEA/Fredrik Dahl

North Korea and the Limits of Verification

Credit: journal-neo.org

The IAEA continues to monitor developments in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea from outside the country and maintains its readiness to resume verification activities should political circumstances permit.

The case illustrates a fundamental limitation of international verification: even sophisticated monitoring institutions ultimately depend on access and cooperation.

More broadly, the Vienna conference reflected the growing difficulty of achieving consensus. Political divisions are increasingly affecting debates even within an institution whose work is largely technical, encompassing safeguards, nuclear safety and security, and peaceful nuclear applications.

At the same time, progress in other safeguards cases shows that multilateral verification can produce results when governments provide access, transparency and sustained cooperation.

Civil Society Bridges the NPT and TPNW

Hideto Matsuura, head of Nihon Hidankyo, addresses an event hosted at the sidelines of the 2026 NPT Review Conference. Credit Naureen Hossain/IPS

At the 2026 NPT Review Conference, Soka Gakkai International (SGI) was among civil society organizations advocating nuclear disarmament education, nuclear risk reduction and greater attention to the humanitarian and environmental consequences of nuclear weapons.

On April 30, SGI and the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation co-organized a side event examining extended nuclear deterrence through the lens of the humanitarian impact of nuclear weapons.

Hideto Matsuura, an atomic bomb survivor representing Nihon Hidankyo, described how radiation-related illnesses continue to affect Hibakusha more than eight decades after the atomic bombings.

The discussion raised a question that lies at the heart of the continuing debate over nuclear deterrence: whether security should be viewed primarily from the standpoint of states or also through the lens of human security.

Such civil society engagement provides a link between the NPT process and the humanitarian approach that contributed to the emergence of the TPNW.

From Vienna to New York

The next major stage of the 2026 nuclear diplomacy cycle now moves back to New York.

From November 30 to December 4, states parties to the TPNW will hold the treaty’s first Review Conference at United Nations Headquarters.

United Nations Headquarters. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri

The TPNW does not replace either the NPT or the IAEA.

The NPT combines three pillars—nuclear non-proliferation, nuclear disarmament and the peaceful uses of nuclear energy—while the IAEA provides much of the safeguards and verification machinery supporting the non-proliferation regime.

Credit: IAEA

The three frameworks therefore address distinct but interconnected dimensions of the nuclear order.

The 2026 NPT Review Conference demonstrated the difficulty of reaching political agreement on disarmament and non-proliferation. Vienna, meanwhile, highlighted the practical challenges confronting verification and nuclear security amid armed conflict, regional proliferation disputes and geopolitical divisions.

The first TPNW Review Conference will now examine what the prohibition treaty can contribute under these conditions.

Nuclear-armed states remain outside the TPNW, placing clear limits on what the treaty can achieve on its own. At the same time, its states parties and supporting civil society organizations have placed the humanitarian consequences of nuclear weapons and their elimination at the centre of international debate.

When delegates gather in New York on November 30, the discussion will therefore extend beyond the implementation of a single treaty.

After another NPT Review Conference ended without substantive consensus, a broader question remains: how can established and newer multilateral frameworks work alongside one another to reduce nuclear risks, strengthen verification and advance nuclear disarmament?

From Vienna to New York, that question is set to remain at the centre of nuclear diplomacy in 2026.

This article is brought to you by INPS Japan in collaboration with Soka Gakkai International in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.

IPS UN Bureau

Dr. Agnes Kalibata, speaking at the opening ceremony of the Africa Food Systems Forum in 2019. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

By Agnes Kalibata
NAIROBI, Kenya, Sep 24 2026 (IPS)

I was born in Rwanda, but my family soon became refugees in Uganda during the conflict and unrest on the cusp of independence. My father was a teacher and went to great lengths to make sure I was well educated. My parents were also smallholder farmers, and I saw firsthand the challenges my parents and other refugee families faced.

After I received my doctoral degree from the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, I returned to a new Rwanda in 2005, managing a World Bank agriculture project with the government. In 2008, I became Minister of Agriculture and Animal Resources, and over the next six years, I oversaw the country’s transition from food deficit to food security, as Rwanda cut its global hunger index by more than 50 percent. We implemented what we understood to be true: effective deliberate agricultural investment drives poverty down.

Agricultural growth is up to four times more effective at reducing poverty than growth in other sectors, and it underpins food security besides. Yet despite that evidence, Africa’s agriculture sector faces an estimated $200 billion annual financing gap.

Less than a year ago, I joined the Global Agriculture and Food Security Program (GAFSP) as Co-Chair of the Steering Committee because I have seen firsthand how GAFSP is a collaborative platform that connects governments, farmers, civil society and leverages the private sector and multiple partners to tackle food insecurity. Among its inaugural investments was a 60 million dollar investment in Rwanda’s Land Husbandry and terracing program which allowed farmers to reclaim degraded land by mobilizing more than 10 times this initial capital, reached hundreds of farmers and contributed to land restoration, food security and poverty reduction all at the same time.

GAFSP’s Business Investment Financing Track (BIFT) has made its second allocation (its first allocation was to the African Development Bank). Announced at the Africa Food Systems Forum “Investing in Africa’s Agri-Food Systems: Nourishing Nations, Growing Jobs, Building Resilience,” Rwanda’s BIFT allocation is a concrete step toward the GAFSP vision that sharing risk deliberately, and cooperatively, rather than leaving it with farmers alone, moves capital that reduces food insecurity. This $6 million allocation has already unlocked $15 million more from IFAD, the Bank of Kigali and Aceli Africa – 2.5 times GAFSP’s own contribution – reaching an expected 215 farmers’ organizations and 35,000 smallholders.

What is most encouraging about this funding is the paradigm shift it represents against the challenging context of reduced Overseas Development Assistance. Capital structured to absorb risk can shift lender considerations to bring private finance into a domain the private sector has avoided, catalyzing transformational change for smallholder borrowers.

The central obstacle isn’t capital or conviction – it’s risk. Agricultural lending is constrained by the risk of accelerating climate shocks and by the practical cost of financing smaller loans. Roughly 90 percent of staple food production in Sub-Saharan Africa depends on rain-fed agriculture, leaving households with no buffer when a season fails. Farmers in low-income countries bear the highest burden of worsening weather conditions, while African countries lose the most GDP to escalating natural disasters, from drought to surging storms. Finally, the loans these farmers need are relatively small, and small loans cost lenders more to appraise and administer.

As Rwanda’s Agriculture Minister, coordinating across ministries to run programs like the Land husbandry program mentioned above alongside the One Cow per Poor Family – a critical source of nutrition for poor families taught me that risk-sharing across government agencies, communities and financiers is what makes ambitious programs work.

It is now a question of scale. What worked for smallholders in Rwanda can work for millions more, if development finance institutions and private lenders treat risk-sharing as standard practice. I have spent my career watching farmers do more with less. Give them the finance they’ve earned, and there is no question they will transform the food system to be more efficient, resilient and a stronger driver of prosperity at scale.

IPS UN Bureau

 
CIVICUS discusses public art, gender-based violence and censorship in Iraqi Kurdistan with Tara Abdullah, a multidisciplinary visual artist from Sulaymaniyah who is currently based in Oslo, Norway as part of the Safemuse – Safe Havens for Artists residency.

Tara Abdullah

How did you become an artivist?

I’m from Sulaymaniyah in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, and I’ve been using art to express myself since I was a child. I fought hard to get into art school. After ninth grade, I joined the Institute of Art and studied there for five years, then studied for four more years at the College of Fine Arts at the University of Sulaymaniyah and graduated in 2020. All in all, I spent almost a decade studying art and learning new materials and methods I could bring into my work.

Since I graduated in 2020, I’ve used art in many different forms, and over the past six years I’ve tried to bring art and activism together, mainly around environmental conservation and women’s rights.

Doing art as a woman here isn’t easy. Dogmas around culture, religion and tradition mean most forms of art are considered haram, or forbidden. Even inside the art community, I’ve found a kind of disgust towards certain forms of art, with people saying some things are too provocative or politically wrong. But reading monthly data on femicide and violence against women has pushed me further to try to use elements of the culture and society I grew up in to try to break the red lines set for women.

What was the Feminine Project?

It was a project I started in 2020, in which I collected clothes from women who had faced violence. I went door to door across thousands of homes in the city and surrounding towns to interview the women and collect a piece of clothing along with their story. I stitched the pieces together and hung them along a five-kilometre stretch of the city’s main street, leading from the main court to the public park.

This was my idea of a peaceful protest. Women here can’t speak openly about the violence they face. If they did, they’d face immediate backlash. Their clothes themselves carry shame. When women hang their washing out, they cover their underwear so it isn’t seen by anyone. I wanted to show that not even women’s clothes have the freedom to be touched by the sun, let alone the women themselves.

I put up a public installation rather than a gallery, because I wanted the public exposed to it, not just the small art community that already agrees with these ideas. By the end of the first day, people started tearing the piece down and burning parts of it, and it triggered a huge backlash online and offline.

What project did you work on then?

After the Feminine Project, I had thousands of stories from the women I’d interviewed. So in late 2022 I started my Voice Project. I turned the stories into a two-minute speech carrying the weight of all of it: honour killing, suicide, violence. Women here are expected to keep a low voice and never give their opinion. Decisions are made for them by men. So I created a voice for them.

I played the message through 66 synchronised speakers across four cities and three surrounding towns in Sulaymaniyah province, all at the same time. I used megaphones deliberately. They’re symbolically loaded because they are used in mosques by mullahs for the call to prayer. In most countries, anyone can speak, but here it’s always a man’s voice, whether it’s calling people to prayer or selling groceries. I wanted to show women also had a voice.

This caused an even bigger backlash than the first project. People started shutting down the speakers, and the mullahs pushed to bring me to court, accusing me of an immoral act against our culture, religion and tradition. They accused me of promoting homosexuality, which genuinely surprised me, because the piece was straightforwardly about violence against women. When the judge called me in for a statement, he asked whether I was promoting ‘queer ideology’. I replied that my work promotes individual freedom. The case was eventually dismissed, but I had to get out of the country and stay away for a few weeks until things settled down.

I think the backlash comes from the visibility. The art community is tiny, and art typically stays inside galleries where very few people see it. But when you bring it out into the public space, it exposes feelings the public didn’t know were there.

How do you manage the risks that this work brings?

For the Feminine Project, building trust with the women was very difficult. I had to reassure them I wasn’t taking photos or recording their voices, and let them check this was true. Even then, some rejected the idea outright, saying things like, ‘So what are you going to do, are you superwoman? Things won’t change’, or accusing me of trying to destroy their families.

None of the clothes in the final installation were tied to a name, so the women’s safety was protected. That meant all the pressure landed on me. I come from a very traditional, religious family who never approved of me going into art. When I was preparing the Feminine Project, I told them I was doing charity work. When the truth came out, there was a huge conflict at home, including violence. But this didn’t make me back down. Instead, it made me more determined.

I know that by undertaking these projects I risk being taken to court, being denied permission to work or receiving online smears and threats. But if I don’t do this, who will? I’m proud of what I’ve done and I’ll keep doing it.

What support have you received?

There are always going to be people for and against, but honestly, most public reaction leans against this kind of work. But I’ve also received some encouragement. Following the Feminine and Voice projects, many women contacted me anonymously to tell me how much relief the work gave them, as someone was finally saying what they’d wanted to say themselves.

However, most of the support I receive comes from outside Iraq. After the Voice Project, I was blacklisted and I couldn’t get any funding or permission for public installations, so I started applying for international prizes instead.

In 2023 I was shortlisted for the Future Generation Art Prize in Ukraine, out of 12,000 applications, for an installation building a bridge between Kurdish women’s experience of violence and war and Ukrainian women living through the current conflict, and I won the special prize in 2024. I also received the Alpine Fellowship Visual Art Prize in 2023 and the Prince Claus Seed Award in 2025. Researchers have written papers about my work, and in 2025, I showed a rough-cut documentary about the Voice Project in Warsaw and an indoor installation about Kurdish women’s experience in Kraków, Poland. That international attention keeps me going, and I use the exposure and funding to keep building pressure back home.

How do you collaborate with others?

I work as an individual artist. I bring in craftspeople and freelancers to help make each piece, but most of them ask me not to use their names. They want the money, not the association. I always explain the risk honestly to people, and many back out.

When I can, I bring in local women to do the work and pay them. For the Feminine Project I had dozens of women doing the sewing. For my environmental work, I try to involve as many women and young people as possible. For a water festival in 2025, I made giant puppets out of reed and recycled biodegradable material alongside 20 people, running workshops over 10 days so they could learn to use art to deliver their own messages.

Collaboration carries risk. When I ran a seminar on art and peace, security forces raided it on the second day and took me in for questioning. But my message to anyone facing suppression or violence is not to be afraid. Talk about it; bring it out into the open. You don’t have to be accepted by a corrupted environment around you to accept yourself.

For me, art is a whole universe you can fit everything into: your ideas, your beautiful things and the problems around you. You can use art to try to fix things. It’s the only weapon that doesn’t hurt or kill.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

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A group of armed defectors from the RSF arrives in the west of Omdurman on 19 August 2026. Credit: Ebrahim Hamid/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Sep 21 2026 (IPS)

Sudan’s civil war grinds on. It’s close to three and a half years since the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) militia began their battle for supremacy, and the two forces and their allies continue to slaughter civilians with impunity. As a recent UN report makes clear, the killing is enabled by numerous foreign powers that continue to supply weapons, personnel and logistical support. They have made a civil conflict their proxy war, and their self-interest is sustaining the killing.

Drone warfare

Things are relatively quiet in the capital, Khartoum, where the curfew was recently lifted following its recapture by the SAF last year, but the RSF still controls significant areas, with fighting concentrated in the Darfur and Kordofan regions to the west and Blue Nile state in the southeast.

Both sides now extensively use drones to kill civilians. In February, a suspected RSF drone strike on an aid convoy in South Kordofan killed three humanitarian workers and wounded four more. In May, a suspected SAF drone strike on a crowded market in Ghubaysh, an RSF-controlled town in West Kordofan, killed 28 people as they shopped for food. In August, another likely SAF strike on a court session in an RSF-controlled village killed 35 people.

The RSF are attacking El Obeid, a city of around half a million people in North Kordofan. RSF drones have hit hospitals and schools. People fear a repeat of what happened when the RSF took the city of El Fasher last October. The UN’s Fact-Finding Mission concluded that the ensuing massacre, in which the RSF killed at least 60,000 people, bore the ‘hallmarks of genocide’, with ethnically targeted killings and widespread sexual violence.

Humanitarian and civic space emergency

The war has caused the world’s largest humanitarian crisis. Over 11 million people have been forcibly displaced within Sudan or to surrounding countries, and around 20 million are experiencing acute food insecurity.

There’s a great need for the help civil society offers, but it’s hard for humanitarian organisations to provide aid because of security dangers and access and movement restrictions. The Sudanese government is also attacking the ability of civil society organisations to operate. In February, authorities revoked the licences of four organisations with missions to provide aid, help victims and promote peace.

Journalists, particularly women journalists, are under attack, making it harder to tell the truth about what’s happening on the ground. In January, the Sudanese Journalists Syndicate recorded that 14 journalists and other media workers had been killed in 2025. In December 2025, it was reported that 40 per cent of women journalists had experienced sexual assault, physical violence, harassment or threats.

Foreign powers behind the war

Sudan’s people can expect little help from the deadlocked UN Security Council. In August, the US government proposed a resolution to expand an arms embargo that currently applies to Darfur to the whole country, explicitly including drones. The Sudanese government condemned the proposal and Russia rejected it, which, given its veto power as a permanent member, means the resolution won’t advance further unless significantly watered down.

Russia initially sold weapons to both the RSF and SAF but more recently has swung behind the SAF, becoming a major arms supplier in return for gold and a potential Red Sea naval base. It’s joined by several other states with a direct stake in the conflict. The UN’s Fact-Finding Mission has set out how the SAF are using foreign-supplied drones while transnational networks are keeping the RSF supplied.

Alongside Russia, states that supply arms or other military support to the SAF, or have done so at some point since the war began, include Egypt, Eritrea, Iran, Libya, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Turkey and Ukraine. Those that have backed the RSF in various ways include the Central African Republic, Chad, Ethiopia, Kenya, South Sudan, Uganda and, most notoriously, the United Arab Emirates (UAE). Weapons originating from countries including Canada, China, Israel and the UK have also been used. In most cases, states deny involvement.

There’s ample evidence that the UAE extensively supplies the RSF with mercenaries and weapons via African transit routes, in return for gold and in the hope of securing a regional foothold. The UAE funded Colombian mercenaries who played an active role alongside the RSF in the slaughter in El Fasher. It was recently revealed that individuals and entities linked to the RSF’s leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, have acquired properties worth over US$24 million in Dubai, likely paid for with smuggled gold.

The UAE’s reliance on states that border Sudan to allow its convoys to cross brings the risk of conflict spillovers, as seen in alleged SAF airstrikes on a military convoy in Chad in August.

Push for accountability

A new initiative to hold foreign figures accountable offers some hope for justice. In June, the Raoul Wallenberg Centre for Human Rights and a group of civil society organisations made a legal submission to the International Criminal Court (ICC), asking it to investigate several foreign officials for aiding and abetting crimes against humanity, genocide and war crimes in Sudan. The submission provided evidence of the involvement of the governments of Egypt, Iran, Turkey and the UAE.

The ICC has an ongoing investigation into the situation in Darfur, scene of a 2003-2005 genocide. It has confirmed that human rights crimes committed during the current war fall under its jurisdiction as part of this investigation, and in June it announced it had ‘concrete evidence’ linking RSF leaders to atrocities in El Fasher.

It’s vital that leaders responsible for human rights crimes face justice, and this must include the leaders of the countries waging a proxy war. If there is to be peace and justice, the impunity of the foreign powers that are sustaining the war must be challenged.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

By Linda Latsko Lockhart
NAIROBI, Kenya, Sep 18 2026 (IPS)

For the young women I met through Global Give Back Circle’s HER Lab in Kenya, displacement was not the end of ambition. It had interrupted school, separated families from stability, and narrowed the choices available to them. But it had not erased their hopes. What they wanted was not pity. They wanted skills, work, confidence and the chance to rebuild their lives with dignity.

Linda Latsko Lockhart

Their stories point to what migration debates often miss: displacement is not only about movement, but also about whether people can rebuild their lives in safety and dignity. If work and opportunity do not exist locally, the question is not only how to manage migration. It is how to create opportunity in their host country.

Kevine and Monica’s experiences reflected a wider reality. UNHCR recorded 117.8 million people forcibly displaced worldwide in 2025. The Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre reported 83.4 million people living in internal displacement across 117 countries and territories in 2024.

This is where Africa’s local experience matters, not as a continent people are simply leaving, but as one already hosting many of its own displaced people. African migration remains predominantly regional. The African Union and the International Organisation for Migration reported that 20.8 million people had moved between African countries. They also found that 86% of refugees and asylum seekers from African countries were hosted within Africa, compared with 9.6% in Europe.

This should reset the debate. Most African refugees and displaced people are already hosted within the continent. The challenge is not simply whether Europe or the United States should receive more people, but whether African host countries have the systems, resources and investment to help refugees rebuild locally. When opportunity exists, onward migration becomes less about desperation and more about choice.

This is not an argument against migration or the right to seek asylum. Migration can benefit individuals, communities and economies. But forced movement should not be the only route to dignity. Refugees need recognised skills, training, routes into work and confidence that their futures are not on hold. That means investing in education, accredited training, entrepreneurship, financial inclusion and community acceptance, so refugees can contribute to host economies.

The kind of local capacity needed is not abstract. In Kenya, Global Give Back Circle’s HER Lab, delivered in partnership with the Mastercard Foundation, shows what this can look like in practice. Across Kajiado and West Pokot counties, HER Lab supports 32 young refugee women: 19 in Kajiado from the Democratic Republic of Congo, and 13 in West Pokot from South Sudan, Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. They are receiving training in fields ranging from coding and electrical installation to fashion, food production, cosmetology and agriculture. The HER Lab model combines market-aligned skills, mentorship, confidence-building, financial inclusion and pathways into employment or enterprise.

HER Lab reflects a broader shift. Through its $300 million partnership with UNHCR, the Mastercard Foundation is supporting half a million young refugees and displaced people across Africa to complete their education and enter dignified work.

In Dadaab, Dadaab Refugee Voices is applying the ILO’s Rural Employment Services model to connect refugees and host communities with job registration, guidance, matching, skills support and digital training. Already, 6,189 jobseekers have registered and received support, showing how local systems can move people towards work and self-reliance.

During and after the 12-month HER Lab programme, young women are building businesses in poultry, beauty, beadwork, retail and regenerative farming, while others are gaining skills in plumbing, agribusiness, digital literacy and electrical work. Through the HER Financial Freedom Programme, hundreds of previously unbanked rural women have gained access to savings and credit in addition to membership in a women-operated tea production cooperative. These are local routes to dignity, income and self-reliance.

That is why local capacity is central to the future of migration policy. Without the resources to educate, train and economically include refugees, displacement will continue to drive onward migration. With support for local initiatives and building inclusive systems, host countries can address some of the pressures that force people to move.

The policy response is clear. Governments, donors, development finance institutions, philanthropies and the private sector should back efforts that are locally rooted, measurable and designed for scale. Western governments, in particular, have a role beyond deterrence or crisis response. Investing in African countries and locally led initiatives can expand education, skills, livelihoods and financial inclusion for refugees and host populations alike. It can also turn migration partnerships into a shared effort to reduce forced movement.

The strongest migration policy is not one that pretends movement can simply be stopped. It is one that gives people real choices before movement becomes unavoidable. Africa is showing what inclusion can look like when opportunity is built locally.

The world should not look away. It should invest in helping that approach scale.

Linda Latsko Lockhart is the Founder and CEO of Global Give Back Circle, a serial social entrepreneur focused on the empowerment of women and girls in Africa and beyond. Named to Forbes “50 Over 50: Impact List”, she brings over 25 years of global leadership designing scalable, gender-based financial independence models. Through her organisation, Lockhart helps marginalised women and girls gain education, financial tools, and lasting economic resilience.

IPS UN Bureau

Excerpt:

 
CIVICUS discusses renewed conflict and a growing crackdown on independent media in Ethiopia with Yonas Kedir, Editor-in-Chief of the independent news outlet Addis Standard, who was recently abducted and detained by government forces.

Yonas Kedir

What’s the current situation in Ethiopia?

Ethiopia is facing overlapping humanitarian, political and security crises. Armed conflict continues in Amhara and Oromia states, while Tigray remains scarred by the devastating 2020-2022 war. Displacement continues, territorial disputes remain unresolved and the peace agreement has only been partly implemented.

Armed conflict and insecurity have also spread to Benishangul-Gumuz, Gambela and other parts of Ethiopia. Tensions between the federal government and Tigrayan authorities have intensified. The government alleges that Eritrea is backing the Tigray People’s Liberation Front and other armed groups. Relations with Eritrea are strained, particularly by disputes over Red Sea access and regional security, and Ethiopia is under growing scrutiny over its alleged role in Sudan’s civil war.

The government says Ethiopia faces an anti-federal military movement involving Eritrea, Sudan, the Oromo Liberation Army, Tigray forces and Fano, an Amhara nationalist militia, accusing them of working as an alliance to unseat the federal government. These are highly contested claims, but they shape the government’s framing of the security environment.

Why are journalists being targeted, and why is the pressure escalating?

Journalists are targeted because independent reporting can challenge official narratives and expose abuses, civilian harm and government conduct. When journalists investigate alleged abuses by government forces, authorities present their work as damaging Ethiopia’s national security or serving foreign interests.

There’s a growing tendency to treat independent journalism as a national security threat. Government officials often call on the media to prioritise the national interest and national unity, while treating critical reporting on sensitive issues as inherently harmful to the country.

Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have documented a deteriorating environment for independent media, including detention, intimidation, restrictions and the use of broad national security and national interest arguments against critical reporting. In this context, legitimate public-interest reporting can be interpreted by authorities or politicians as taking sides.

The pressure has intensified because several politically sensitive issues are converging at the same time, including the political environment, the security situation, the unresolved consequences of the Tigray war, tensions involving Eritrea and Sudan and debates over Ethiopia’s constitutional and political future.

The most recent election was held in a highly contested political environment, with several major opposition parties boycotting the process. This has raised questions about the inclusiveness and broader political legitimacy of the electoral process, particularly in a context where political space for opposition political figures and independent voices remains constrained.

These issues make independent reporting particularly important, but also make journalism on governance and political issues increasingly sensitive.

Why were you detained, and what happened while you were held?

I don’t know for sure who ordered my detention, and nor can I establish the full motive. But the questions I was asked and the circumstances around them strongly suggest my journalistic work was central to what happened.

On 1 August, security personnel took me, assaulted me, blindfolded me and held me for around 24 hours. They questioned me about my work and about Addis Standard’s reporting. While I was detained, security forces raided Addis Standard’s office and seized cameras and other newsroom equipment. They also searched my home and confiscated company and personal equipment. I was released the next day.

For me, this was bigger than myself. The fact that I was questioned about my work and that newsroom equipment was seized raises concerns about the safety of all journalists and the ability of independent media to operate freely.

What conditions do journalists face in Ethiopia, and what are the consequences of the loss of independent reporting?

Journalists in Ethiopia operate in an environment of fear and uncertainty, facing administrative restrictions, arrest, detention, harassment, online intimidation, physical attacks and surveillance. This is particularly true for those in conflict areas, where access can be restricted, sources are often afraid to speak and journalists face pressure from multiple sides, not only federal authorities but also armed and political groups.

This encourages self-censorship. Journalists avoid particular subjects, soften their language or decide not to publish information that could put themselves, colleagues or sources in danger. This leaves people with very limited access to reliable information about decisions that affect their lives.

Independent journalism provides a mechanism for documenting alleged abuses, civilian casualties, displacement and humanitarian needs. A healthy information environment is essential for meaningful public participation, national dialogue and peacebuilding. When independent reporting is weakened, victims and communities lose a public platform to raise concerns. It also becomes harder for people to distinguish verified information from disinformation, propaganda and politically motivated narratives.

What support do Ethiopian journalists and civil society need?

The international community should help build stronger protection and rapid-response mechanisms for when journalists are attacked, detained and threatened, and should press for meaningful accountability for abuses against journalists and media organisations.

International partners should provide legal and institutional support to help media organisations challenge arbitrary licence revocations, unlawful restrictions and other forms of administrative pressure. They should support efforts to strengthen the independence of Ethiopia’s judiciary, so it can protect fundamental rights and provide meaningful remedies when state institutions act unlawfully.

International partners should also give very serious attention to protecting people’s right to organise around their aspirations, grievances and interests, which is essential to peaceful political participation. Expanding civic space can strengthen peace processes and peacebuilding, while suppressing these rights can contribute to the expansion of conflict.

Finally, international partners should continue to monitor Ethiopia’s civic space, engage authorities and support independent investigations. Reporting on abuses shouldn’t be treated as a threat to national interest. It’s part of the public’s right to know. International engagement should also look beyond whether constitutional initiatives, elections and national dialogue processes take place on paper, and assess whether these processes are genuinely inclusive, participatory and protective of fundamental rights.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

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Bangladesh is rightly praised for saving lives during cyclones and floods. Early warning systems, cyclone shelters and community mobilisation have turned once-catastrophic disasters into emergencies in which evacuation is often possible. But behind that success lies a quieter national failure: millions of people are being uprooted inside the country, often more than once, without a clear path back to secure homes, land or livelihoods.

Dr Mohammad Zaman

In Bangladesh, this distinction is not academic. A Rohingya family that fled Myanmar into Cox’s Bazar is rightly understood as part of a refugee crisis. A Bangladeshi family forced from a riverbank in Kazipur-Sirajganj, a cyclone-hit village in Barguna or Patuakhali, or a landslide-prone hillside in Chattogram is internally displaced. The first case draws international refugee law and a global humanitarian apparatus. The second is too often dismissed as local misfortune, seasonal migration or urban poverty—even when the displacement is forced, repeated and long-term.

The drivers are unmistakable. Monsoon floods, cyclones, storm surges and landslides trigger large annual movements. Slower disasters—riverbank erosion, salinity intrusion and coastal land loss—make return impossible for many families. Conflict and violence produce smaller annual movements, but protracted displacement in the Chittagong Hill Tracts remains unresolved. Development projects, urban evictions and infrastructure expansion can also uproot communities when resettlement and compensation fall short.

The numbers show why Bangladesh can no longer treat internal displacement as a temporary humanitarian footnote. The Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre reported about 2.4 million disaster-related displacements in Bangladesh in 2024, up from about 1.8 million in 2023. Monsoon floods alone triggered around 1.3 million movements, including an estimated 723,000 in Sylhet division in June. Cyclone Remal added roughly 1.1 million displacements, many of them pre-emptive evacuations that saved lives but still disrupted homes, schools, work and local economies. Conflict and violence accounted for about 2,800 displacements.

New national evidence makes the picture starker. The International Organization for Migration’s Displacement Tracking Matrix estimated 5 million disaster-induced IDPs in Bangladesh in its 2025 nationwide assessment. Nearly two-thirds had been displaced before April 2020, meaning many have lived with displacement for years, not weeks. One quarter were concentrated in just four districts—Chattogram, Sirajganj, Bhola and Noakhali—while Chattogram and Dhaka divisions together hosted about 40 per cent of the estimated displaced population.

These figures expose an unequal geography of risk. Coastal households face cyclones, storm surges, saline water and embankment failures. Riverine communities in the north and centre lose land to erosion. City slums absorb families who arrive after disasters, only to place them in flood-prone, insecure and poorly serviced neighbourhoods. Women, children, older people and persons with disabilities face particular barriers in evacuation, shelter access, documentation, employment and safe housing. Displacement is not simply movement from one place to another; it can strip people of assets, identity, social networks, education and political voice.

Bangladesh’s IDP crisis is best understood as a development crisis with humanitarian symptoms. The country is comparatively strong at emergency response: it can warn people, open shelters and move communities away from immediate danger. The harder work begins after the water recedes—restoring land, rebuilding homes, returning children to school, replacing fishing gear or livestock, securing tenure in safer locations, and preventing displaced families from being pushed into exploitative labour or unsafe housing. Without durable solutions—safe return, local integration or planned relocation—each disaster deepens the last.

Bangladesh has a policy foundation, including its National Strategy on Internal Displacement Management. What it lacks is implementation at the scale demanded by climate reality. Internal displacement must be built into land-use planning, social protection, climate adaptation, urban housing, education, health care and local government finance. Data systems should distinguish short-term evacuations from protracted displacement. Relief, relocation and resettlement must be transparent, participatory and centred on livelihoods—not merely a transfer from one unsafe place to another.

Ashrayan, Bangladesh’s flagship housing program for landless and homeless families, offers both a useful model and a warning. Since 1997, it has given many poor households a legal roof, a small plot and access to basic services. For families living for years on embankments, khas land, riverbanks or in insecure urban settlements, secure shelter can be life-changing. But Ashrayan also shows why housing cannot be mistaken for rehabilitation. A house in the wrong place—without work nearby, transport, drainage, schools, health care or local accountability—can become another form of confinement. The real test is not how many units are handed over, but whether families can rebuild livelihoods and belong to the communities that receive them.

The recurring failures are practical and political. Too many Ashrayan-style resettlement sites are chosen because public or khas land is available, not because the location offers a realistic route out of poverty. Weak construction, poor drainage, inadequate sanitation, limited maintenance and exposure to floods or erosion can undermine relocation itself. Governance failures—unclear beneficiary selection, local influence, informal payments, land disputes and weak grievance systems—can be just as damaging. When these problems occur, families may gain a roof while losing the social networks, markets and informal economies that kept them afloat. Some commute long distances; some rent out or abandon the unit; some move again. That is not a failure of the displaced. It is a warning about policy design.

The future will be harsher if policy remains reactive. Climate change will intensify the hazards that already uproot families—heavier rainfall, stronger storm surges, sea-level rise, salinity and river erosion—while urbanisation will keep pulling displaced people into already strained cities such as Dhaka, Chattogram and secondary urban centres. Bangladesh has proved through cyclone preparedness that public policy can save lives. Its next test is whether those who survive disaster can also recover dignity, income and security afterward.

That begins with treating IDPs as rights-holders, not as casualties of bad weather. Bangladesh must move beyond emergency shelter toward secure housing, restored livelihoods and accountable national systems backed by climate finance. Resettlement must be written into land policy, local budgets, urban planning, social protection and climate adaptation before the next flood or cyclone arrives. The choice is stark: displacement can remain a conveyor belt into poverty, or it can become a national commitment to safety, citizenship and a future people can rebuild.

Dr. Mohammad Zaman is an internationally recognized scholar and practitioner in resettlement and development projects across Asia and Africa. His work brings together academic scholarship, field-based practice, social safeguards, and policy engagement, with a particular focus on how affected communities experience, negotiate, and reshape development interventions. Dr. Zaman’s most recent book is Anatomy of Resettlement: Ethnographic Accounts and Stories in Retrospect (Bloomsbury Academic, 2025).

IPS UN Bureau

Indigenous Kakataibo patrol in the Yamino community forest. A new report titled Collective Power documents the deaths of people who stood against environmental destruction, land grabs, illegal logging, mining projects and other threats to their communities. Credit: Global Witness

By Umar Manzoor Shah
LONDON & SRINAGAR, India, Sep 16 2026 (IPS)

At least 124 land and environmental defenders were killed around the world in 2025 while protecting forests, rivers, farmland and Indigenous territories, according to a new report by Global Witness that warns violence against activists remains widespread even as recorded killings have declined from previous years.

The report, titled Collective Power, documents the deaths of people who stood against environmental destruction, land grabs, illegal logging, mining projects and other threats to their communities. It says the 124 killings recorded in 2025 bring the total number of land and environmental defenders killed or disappeared since Global Witness began tracking such cases in 2012 to 2,375.

While the number of killings fell from 142 deaths and four disappearances documented in 2024, Global Witness cautioned that the decline should not be viewed as evidence that defenders are becoming safer, and onimously, the killing and intimidation have serious consequences for the environment.

“Defenders are the world’s eyes and ears on the ground. It’s thanks to them that we know when ecosystems are being destroyed, where forests are being cleared or rivers polluted,” Toby Hill, land and environmental defenders investigator and lead author, said. “The violence that defenders face, including killings in the most extreme cases, reflects a much broader struggle over the world’s land and resources. But beyond these tragic stories, we can’t forget the thousands of defenders around the world who are working every day to protect their territories and cultures under increasing pressure.”

The report said, “Every one of these deaths represents an attempt, in the most brutal fashion, to impose a chilling effect on movements that resist environmental and human rights abuses. We remember the families, friends and communities who have been left devastated by each attack.”

Researchers argue that the real number of killings is likely much higher because many attacks occur in remote areas, conflict zones and countries where civil society groups face intimidation for reporting abuses. According to the report, difficulties in documenting cases are particularly severe in parts of Africa and Asia, as well as increasingly in Latin America.

The findings reveal a global struggle over land, natural resources and environmental protection, with Indigenous peoples and small-scale farmers bearing the heaviest burden.

Indigenous women walk along a river in the Amazon rainforest. According to Global Witness, Indigenous peoples and small-scale farmers accounted for nearly three-quarters of the land, and environmental defenders killed globally in 2025. The report highlights the growing risks faced by communities defending their lands, livelihoods and ecosystems from environmental destruction and resource exploitation. Credit: Global Witness

Nearly three-quarters of those killed in 2025 were Indigenous people or small-scale farmers defending their land rights and livelihoods. The report found that 47 victims were small-scale farmers and 44 were Indigenous people. Three victims were Afro-descendant defenders.

Among the dead were seven members of Indigenous guard systems, community-based groups that patrol and protect ancestral territories from illegal activities and outside encroachment. In five of those cases, researchers identified links to organised crime, highlighting what the report describes as a growing overlap between environmental conflicts and criminal networks.

Despite this, Indigenous people continue to defend their environments.

“Defending our territory is important to us as a community and as a people, and we’re proud to support the climate that we all depend on. In our culture, the work of defending our resources and territory is taught from an early age. But for this next generation coming up, the work is more dangerous than ever,” Segundo Ispón, commander of Peru’s Kakataibo Indigenous Guard, said.

Global Witness said the killings represent only the most visible form of repression. Beneath them lies what human rights groups call a “hidden iceberg” of threats that include criminal charges, surveillance, harassment, smear campaigns and online abuse.

“Increasingly, social media is weaponised to discredit and harass defenders, eroding public trust and isolating them from their communities,” the report noted.

The organisation suggested that some governments and powerful interests may be relying more on non-lethal forms of repression, which can silence opposition without attracting the international attention that often follows a murder.

The report also highlights a broader deterioration in civic freedoms. Of the 15 countries where killings were documented, 10 were categorised as “repressed” by the CIVICUS Monitor, a global tracker of civic freedoms. Nicaragua was listed in the most restrictive category, described as “closed”.

Asia emerged as one of the regions where environmental defenders face increasing pressure through legal and political means.

A major section of the report focuses on Indonesia, where Dayak Indigenous communities in West Kalimantan have resisted industrial expansion, land grabs and deforestation. According to Global Witness, community leaders and Indigenous defenders have faced criminalisation while attempting to protect forests and customary lands.

The report argues that such cases reflect a wider regional trend in which defenders are increasingly targeted through courts, police investigations and administrative actions rather than direct violence alone. It cites concerns raised by human rights organisations regarding the criminalisation of environmental activism across parts of Asia.

In the Philippines, environmental defenders Jhed Tamano and Jonila Castro are highlighted as examples of activists who continued their advocacy despite legal and political pressure. Their experiences are presented as part of a larger pattern in which defenders face reputational attacks and criminal allegations linked to their activism.

The report also examines Peru, where members of the Kakataibo Indigenous people have developed Indigenous guard systems to protect their territory from growing threats associated with organised crime and environmental exploitation. The movement is presented as an example of collective protection developed by communities that feel abandoned by state institutions.

Across Latin America, which has historically recorded some of the highest numbers of killings of environmental defenders, the report documents continuing violence, disappearances and intimidation.

It revisits the disappearance of Mexican defenders Ricardo Lagunes and Antonio Díaz, whose case has become emblematic of the dangers faced by people challenging powerful economic interests. Three years after their disappearance, United Nations experts were still calling for truth and justice.

The report also highlights the unresolved disappearance of Chilean Indigenous defender Julia Chuñil. According to Global Witness, her family and legal representatives have faced mounting pressure while continuing to seek answers.

“Despite this pressure, Julia’s family continues to fight for truth and justice,” the report said. “They are still searching for their mother, organising protests, pursuing legal challenges and bringing international attention to the case.”

In Nigeria, defenders protecting the Ekuri Forest in Cross River State continued to face intimidation, arrest and detention after speaking out against illegal logging. The report said community leaders were targeted following complaints linked to logging interests but were later released after intervention from environmental organisations and lawyers.

“The arrests were widely viewed as an attempt to silence efforts to defend tropical forests and community forest rights,” the report stated.

The gender dimension of environmental activism also features prominently in the findings. Of the 124 defenders whose deaths were verified in 2025, 109 were men, 14 were women and one was identified as non-binary. However, researchers stressed that women defenders often experience different forms of violence that are less visible but equally damaging.

The report cites data from the Mesoamerican Initiative of Women Human Rights Defenders showing more than 30,000 non-lethal attacks against women defenders in Mexico and Central America between 2012 and 2023. These included harassment, threats, surveillance, psychological abuse and smear campaigns.

The report also expresses concern about the unprecedented fall in foreign aid seen in 2025 – driven by budget cuts by the governments of the United States, Germany, the United Kingdom and other traditional donors – impacting thousands of human rights organisations, drastically reducing the global pool of support to communities acting in the depths of rainforests and other secluded ecosystems.

“The effects of these budget cuts are not abstract. In Colombia, projects working to promote and protect human rights and support defenders have been hit by the sudden drop in foreign aid, particularly from the U.S. When foreign aid retreats, Indigenous Peoples and small-scale farmers can be left with fewer resources and less support as they defend the forests, rivers and other ecosystems that sustain their communities and help keep the global climate stable,” Juliana Vélez Echeverri, a senior campaigner at Global Witness, said.

Global Witness says the solution requires more than investigations into individual killings. The organisation is calling for stronger legal protections for Indigenous peoples, recognition of land rights, accountability for corporations and criminal networks, and greater support for community-led protection systems.

The report argues that environmental defenders are not only protecting local communities but also safeguarding forests, biodiversity and ecosystems that are critical in the fight against climate change. Their work, researchers say, often benefits society far beyond the places where they live.

The publication opens with a dedication to those who continue that work despite the risks.

“This report is dedicated to all those individuals, communities and organisations bravely speaking out or taking action to defend their rights to land and a clean, healthy and sustainable environment,” it says. “Last year, 124 people were murdered for doing this work.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

Sidi Haidara leads a community dialogue in Mopti, Mali, where families, young people and local leaders discuss girls' rights and ways to end female genital mutilation. Credit: UN Women/Dieneba Deme

By UNFPA
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 16 2026 (IPS)

In Mali, an estimated nine out of ten women and girls have undergone female genital mutilation (FGM). And for years, Sidi Haidara, a father and recognized leader in his community, believed the practice was simply part of life.

Like many people in his community in central Mali, he saw it as a tradition passed down through generations – one that should be preserved.

Today, he walks from village to village with a very different message: No tradition should come at the expense of a girl’s health, rights, or future.

His story goes beyond one man’s personal transformation. Across parts of West and Central Africa, FGM remains deeply rooted – with Mali having one of the highest rates in the region and no laws that specifically criminalize the practice. Even recently, some men in Mali have launched an all-male pro-FGM campaign on the grounds of protecting tradition.

In places where social norms are deeply entrenched, change often begins with trusted voices from within the community – voices like Haidara’s.

After spending years defending female genital mutilation, Sidi Haidara now leads community dialogues in Mopti, Mali, encouraging families to protect girls’ rights and abandon the practice. Credit: UN Women/Dieneba Deme

How UN Women and partners are shifting mindsets and empowering new anti-FGM advocates in Mali

“I used to believe that this practice was part of our traditions and needed to be preserved”, says Haidara.

Nothing suggested that he would one day become one of the people advocating for its abandonment.

His perspective began to change after taking part in training sessions, workshops, and community dialogues organized through the Men and Boys as Agents of Change project, implemented by UN Women with financial support from the Government of Germany.

As he listened to different experiences and learned about the consequences of FGM, he began questioning his beliefs – beliefs he had never challenged before. He also came to understand that lasting change cannot simply be imposed – it grows through dialogue, trust, and community ownership.

“UN Women’s trainings – with the support of Germany – transformed my understanding of female genital mutilation. I learned about the physical, psychological, and social consequences that this practice imposes on girls.”

How to end FGM in Mali: Begin with listening, questioning, and conversing

“Today, I regularly organize awareness-raising sessions with families, religious leaders, young people, and women”, he explains.

Rather than telling people what to think, he encourages conversations about what it means to protect girls and challenges long-held beliefs through dialogue.

Little by little, those conversations are making a difference. “I can see change: more parents are asking questions, several families are abandoning female genital mutilation, and discussions about protecting girls have become more open.”

“I am convinced that protecting girls today means investing in the future of our entire community.”

People can change – and so can social norms

Haidara’s journey is part of a broader movement taking place across the regions of Mopti and Gao in Mali.

With support from the Government of Germany, UN Women works alongside religious and traditional leaders, women, young people, and men like Haidara who are committed to community-driven initiatives that prevent violence against women and girls and challenge harmful social norms.

To date, 50 community initiatives have been implemented across the two regions, while eight community-dialogue platforms provide spaces for people to discuss girls’ rights, their protection, and ways to prevent gender-based violence.

For Haidara, abandoning a harmful practice is about more than leaving a tradition behind. It is about giving girls the opportunity to grow up safely, stay in school, and shape their own futures.

His journey shows that some of the most meaningful changes happen when those who once upheld harmful social norms become the people helping to transform them.

Haidara knows traditions do not change overnight. But every conversation creates an opportunity for reflection. Every family that chooses to protect its daughters helps write a different future from the one that generations before them inherited.

In Mopti and Gao, these conversations are showing that lasting change does not necessarily begin with a new law or policy. More often, it begins when communities themselves decide to imagine a different future for their girls.

Source: UNFPA

IPS UN Bureau

Excerpt:

Khaled Khiari, Assistant Secretary-General for Middle East, Europe, the Americas, Asia and the Pacific, Departments of Political and Peacebuilding Affairs and Peace Operations, briefs the Security Council meeting on the situation in the Middle East (Yemen). Credit: UN Photo/Eskinder Debebe

By Oritro Karim
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 16 2026 (IPS)

In recent days, the humanitarian situation in Yemen has deteriorated sharply following a new escalation of hostilities between the Iran-backed Houthi rebels and the Saudi-backed Presidential Leadership Council (PLC). This follows four years of relative stability, marking the most severe resurgence of violence since the collapse of the United Nations (UN)-mediated ceasefire in October 2022.

Described by the UN as a “new, more dangerous phase of the war,” new hostilities have resulted in persistent disruptions to telecommunications and restrictions on movement, which have left humanitarian aid operations increasingly strained. Although insecurity has largely been concentrated in Yemen’s southwest, civilians across the country face rampant insecurity and increasingly limited access to essential services such as shelter, food, clean water, healthcare, and protection.

On September 3, Houthi forces launched a major offensive in the Taiz governorate, aiming to sever critical connecting roads to the strategic port city, Mokha–a key trade hub in the region. This prompted counter-offensives and cross-border missile exchanges from Saudi-backed forces. By September 10, the Houthis had expanded their operations along Yemen’s Red Sea coast, capturing Mokha as well as key surrounding areas along the Bab al-Mandeb Strait.

As of September 14, the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) has verified at least 40 civilian casualties recorded since September 3, including 8 deaths and 32 injuries. Women and children account for half of those killed and more than half of those injured. Due to rampant access constraints and ongoing insecurity, these initial figures are expected to rise as response efforts continue.

The same day, the United Nations Refugee Agency (UNHCR) announced that over 100,000 civilians, or at least 18,000 households, have been newly displaced due to renewed violence. The International Organization for Migration (IOM) noted that the Taiz governorate was the hardest-hit by new displacement, with nearly 56,000 displaced from this region alone. An additional 19,000 civilians were displaced from Lahj, more than 8,000 from Al Hodeidah, and over 2,500 in Aden.

“Families are arriving with nothing: no shelter, no food, no way to know if it’s safe to go back,” said Abdusattor Esoev, IOM Yemen’s Chief of Mission. “Many of these are people who have already been displaced once, twice, even four times before. Every time fighting flares up, they lose whatever little they had managed to rebuild. We are particularly concerned by reports that some families may be unable to leave frontline areas safely because of continuing hostilities and insecurity along access routes.”

Additionally, IOM notes that entire villages have been emptied across three districts in Taiz– Maqbanah, Jabal Habashi, and Al Ma’afer–with recorded upward trends in Aden, Al Hodeidah, and Abyan. The agency stated that the recorded number of displaced families increases “by the hour,” noting that basic services across Yemen’s overcrowded displacement shelters have grown increasingly strained.

Renewed violence has also driven massive levels of cross-border movements, with UNHCR recording over 2,400 people crossing from Yemen to Djibouti by sea, with the vast majority arriving through Obock, Khor Angar, Moulhoule, and Godoria. These voyages are extremely dangerous, with overcrowded vessels, fuel shortages, and rough waters leading to frequent fatalities and missing passengers. More than 60 percent of these migrants are women, children, and elderly persons.

“People are arriving after a difficult sea journey, many exhausted, distressed and carrying what little they could take with them,” said Sandrine Desamours, UNHCR Representative in Djibouti. “The response is already under pressure. We urgently need more support before more families arrive and needs outpace our capacity to assist them. Djiboutian families and the Yemeni refugee community are opening their doors and sharing what little they have, but the humanitarian response, already facing a dire funding crisis, is being stretched fast.”

Hans Grundberg, UN Special Envoy for Yemen, warned the Security Council on September 10 that the new escalation of hostilities could plunge the country into a state of prolonged war that spills far beyond its borders. Grundberg stressed that Yemen risks being dragged into another broader regional conflict with “global repercussions,” raising significant concern across the humanitarian community.

With Houthi rebels maintaining a strong presence along all key routes connecting to the Red Sea coast–one of the world’s most critical maritime chokepoints–the global energy trade could face severe disruptions, further inflaming regional tensions. As the Houthis exert control over the Bab al-Mandeb Strait while Iran disrupts shipping through the Strait of Hormuz, Iran effectively consolidates massive economic and political leverage over the global energy market.

The UN Security Council held an emergency session on September 15 to address the situation in Yemen. Mauricio Gaona the Permanent Representative of Colombia to the UN, warned that the disruption of the Straits of Hormuz and Bab al-Mandeb jeopardize roughly one-third of global oil trade.

“We are facing an international, or potentially an international, conflict that will be felt first in the developing world and then in the developed world. We will believe that the effects of not acting are greater than the conflict we do face today,” said Gaona.

Vasily Nebenzya, the Permanent Representative of the Russian Federation to the UN, stressed that destabilization in the Red Sea and the Bab al-Mandeb Strait compromises free, safe navigation and sustainable shipping. He noted that this directly threatens humanitarian cargo shipments—which many countries in protracted crises are critically dependent on—raising concerns that conditions could rapidly deteriorate if aid deliveries are cut off.

Khaled Khiari, the UN Assistant Secretary-General (ASG) for Middle East, Europe, the Americas, Asia and the Pacific, Departments of Political and Peacebuilding Affairs and Peace Operations, reiterated concerns for the security of the Red Sea and the international maritime corridors. He added that what is needed in this time is “sustained engagement that reduces tensions prevents further escalation and safeguards freedom of navigation”.

“The parties in Yemen should prioritize dialogue and engage constructively with United Nations-led efforts toward a negotiated political solution,” said Khiari.

IPS UN Bureau Report

Members of the Uyghur delegation pose with the director of their host organisation, CADAL, during their visit to Buenos Aires, Argentina, 23 August 2026. The sky flag is strictly banned by the Chinese government under anti-separatism laws. Credit: CADAL.

By Inés M. Pousadela
MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Sep 15 2026 (IPS)

On 24 August, I took part in a human rights conference in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Days before it opened, the city legislature cancelled the intended venue after the Chinese ambassador complained to the Argentine government about the participation of prominent Uyghur human rights defenders, including Dolkun Isa, an activist exiled in Germany. Beijing has waged a campaign of mass detention and forced assimilation against the mostly Muslim Uyghur population for years.

The organisers found another venue at the last minute, and the conference went ahead, but the episode was revealing. This was a small gathering, of no great consequence to anyone beyond those in the room, in a global south city over 19,000 kilometres from Beijing, yet China still went out of its way to stop it. The episode showed how China aims to deny its critics any platform, however modest, anywhere. A phone call to a compliant government is the least of what it does in pursuit of this objective.

China’s global campaign

China is the world’s leading perpetrator of transnational repression, the practice of reaching beyond borders to intimidate, punish and silence critics in exile. Its new ‘Ethnic Unity Law‘, in force since July, lets the government target dissidents abroad when they are deemed to be ‘undermining ethnic unity’ or ‘creating ethnic division’. Freedom House has documented at least 319 instances of China’s physical transnational repression targeting Hong Kong democracy activists, Tibetans and Uyghurs, in addition to Taiwanese civil society and political figures, whom it treats as if they were Chinese nationals.

China’s transnational repression spans the spectrum of severity. At the far end, dissidents disappear. Chinese dissident Yi Haihua reportedly vanished in Dubai in April, having fled China via Hong Kong the previous November. China also uses prosecution and imprisonment to punish dissent abroad. Those targeted include a student who was handed a six-year sentence when he returned to China after participating in a pro-democracy protest in Australia.

Less extreme but far more widespread are surveillance, intimidation and repression by proxy, through which China monitors and threatens dissidents abroad and pressures family members back home. China also applies economic leverage against states, as seen in April when the government of Zambia, a state heavily indebted to China, called off the RightsCon digital rights conference, over the participation of Taiwanese activists, days before it was due to open in Lusaka.

Beyond China

China is not alone. Vietnam and Russia are the second and third worst offenders, and at least 54 states have engaged in transnational repression, with six — Afghanistan, Benin, Georgia, Kenya, Tanzania and Zimbabwe — identified as using these tactics for the first time in 2025.

Latin America, once largely spared, is now home to transnational repression. In June 2025, former Nicaraguan army major Roberto Samcam, an outspoken critic of dictator Daniel Ortega, was shot dead at his home near San José, Costa Rica, the third such killing of a Nicaraguan exile there in recent years. Nicaragua has also taken the lead in stripping dissenters of nationality. Since 2023, the government has removed citizenship from over 300 former journalists, opponents and political prisoners and confiscated their assets, leaving them stateless and unprotected.

Venezuela under Nicolás Maduro pursued its opponents with similar determination. In February 2024, men in fake police uniforms abducted exiled former army lieutenant Ronald Ojeda from his apartment in Santiago de Chile. His dismembered body was found buried under concrete nine days later. Chilean prosecutors concluded the killing was ordered by the Venezuelan government and carried out through a Venezuelan gang, part of a growing practice of outsourcing violence that offers plausible deniability. In October 2025, gunmen in Bogotá opened fire on exiled activists Yendri Velásquez and Luis Peche. Fortunately, they survived their multiple gunshot wounds.

Weak response

In March 2025, a New York jury convicted two members of an Eastern European crime ring hired by Iran’s Revolutionary Guard over a 2022 plot to kill exiled journalist Masih Alinejad at her Brooklyn home. This June, a UK court convicted two men of spying on UK-based Hong Kong democracy activists, and in July, it convicted those responsible for a knife attack on exiled Iranian television presenter Pouria Zeraati. The USA has imposed visa bans on Thai officials responsible for forcibly returning Uyghurs to China.

Yet these are exceptions in a pattern of host states quietly enabling the repression they claim to oppose. On top of failing to do enough to prevent transnational repression on their soil, many are facilitating it through their border and immigration systems, with geopolitical calculations and political pressure to curb immigration numbers trumping human rights protections.

In June, Germany deported Tajik opposition activist Asadullo Boboev and his son despite a documented risk of arrest. Tajik authorities detained Boboev on arrival. The USA has repeatedly returned Russians to the authoritarian government they fled, and has let officials from Iran’s consulate into US detention facilities to help process Iranian asylum seekers for deportation, including Christian converts and women’s rights protesters. In 2025, the UK reopened the door to extraditions to Hong Kong, five years after suspending cooperation over the territory’s draconian national security law. The Trump administration’s 2025 dismantling of USAID and freeze on democracy funding have cut off support that once helped threatened activists relocate and rebuild their lives.

The European Parliament, the G7 and the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights have all formally acknowledged transnational repression as an assault on human rights and state sovereignty, but recognition hasn’t brought stronger responses. Democratic states must resist pressure, impose consequences on foreign officials who order transnational repression and refrain from returning exiles to face danger. Democracies must not prioritise calculations of trade and diplomacy over the protection of the people seeking safety.

Inés M. Pousadela is CIVICUS Head of Research and Analysis, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report. She is also a Professor of Comparative Politics at Universidad ORT Uruguay.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

On 11 September 2001 I was in New York, on one of my frequent visits to the United Nations, to which I was tied by a consultancy contract. That morning I woke up late, around eleven, sleeping off the jet lag of the flight from Italy. I was staying at the Hyatt Park, today the Millennium. A hotel a few metres from the Glass Palace, built to serve the world of the United Nations.

Roberto Savio

When I came down to the lobby, I was taken aback by an extreme state of agitation, from the staff to the guests. I tried to speak to a bellboy I knew, but he ran off without answering. So I went to reception, where everyone was on the telephone and no one paid me any attention. Finally, someone I knew told me: “They’ve attacked the Twin Towers!” And then she too rushed away.

At that point, with the professional deformation of the journalist, I went out into the street to take a taxi and get to the scene. But the street was deserted. Not a car in sight, and the few passers-by were running as well, certainly to get home.

So I did the only intelligent thing left to me, which was to watch television. The images were clear and terrible. But the anchors were groping in total darkness, in a bewilderment I had never seen. It was clear that this was an attack and not an accident. But by whom? And why? The CBS presenter was asking: “But who could wish America harm, when we have always helped the whole world?” And the one on NBC: “The Evil Empire is over, it set with the fall of the Berlin Wall twelve years ago. Where does this hatred come from?”

New York comes to a halt

On the day of the attack, as on the day after, New York ceased to exist. The streets were deserted. Shops, restaurants, supermarkets, closed. There was no public transport. In my hotel, where the staff had not turned up, the managers improvised pathetic sandwiches, which was all that could be offered to the guests to keep them fed. Everyone was at home digesting the shock, avoiding unpredictable dangers, and watching television. Only on the second day, beyond the appalling images of people falling from the sky, of office workers and firemen covered in a mantle of ash, did figures and data begin to appear. And in those days, the American dream vanished.

The American myth and its crisis

The United States had been the clear winner of the Second World War. And from then on, the undisputed leader of the world, opposed only by the Evil Empire, the Soviet Union. But American citizens saw the socialist world as politically absurd and economically backward, a place people were constantly fleeing in order to take refuge in the world of freedom, democracy and prosperity, the United States. It was they who had set in motion the reconstruction of Europe, which, though historically the centre of the West, was by then an arm of American hegemony. And their aid to the development of the Third World had saved millions of people from hunger and famine. In the collective imagination, this took on enormous proportions, which had nothing to do with reality. Shortly before 11 September, the New York Times had published a survey according to which the American “in the street” believed that development aid amounted to anywhere from a minimum of 5 per cent of Gross Product up to 10 per cent. In fact it was 0.10.

The common feeling in those days was disbelief. In the history of the United States, Americans had first read about and then watched wars, massacres and every kind of violence as distant events, even when their own sons were involved, as in the Second World War. But they had never suffered an attack at home. And the fact that this had been possible was the first, subconscious feeling of distrust towards the institutions — which, with other events and with time, would become an important part of today’s political reality. Until then, polls had always recorded a serene confidence in a State that guaranteed security.

From the American dream to Trump and Musk

To make an effective analysis of how the American dream progressively faded would require far more space than we have. But let me try to summarise the threads of the carpet that slowly covered the United States we knew, replacing them with those of Trump and Musk.

First of all, it should be remembered that in the decade of the Eighties a number of things happened that carried great significance not only globally, but with great weight inside the United States.

The first was the Conference of Heads of State in Cancún, in 1981, convened by the United Nations to continue the dialogue for a New World Order based on cooperation and international solidarity, adopted by acclamation by the General Assembly in 1973. I was head of communications for the Summit, and I lived it from the inside. The 25 most representative heads of state of the moment were there, and from Indira Gandhi to Mitterrand, from Nyerere to Trudeau, all spoke of the need to strengthen international cooperation. When Reagan’s turn came, elected shortly before, his speech was categorical, and was later taken up by Thatcher: “American citizens elected me to serve their interests and not those of others. And therefore I do not accept the straitjacket of United Nations resolutions. From now on, America will choose its own road.”

In those same years, at American urging, the international community adopted the Washington Consensus, drawn up by the American Treasury, the Inter-American Development Bank and the World Bank. The consensus broke with the economic doctrines that had prevailed since the end of the war. It eliminated every social component, making the market and its laws of absolute competition the centre of society. The State was to withdraw from its central role and let the market take its place. Expenditure that was not immediately productive, such as health and education, was to be taken over by the private sector. And competition, at every level, from the individual to the global, was to be the yardstick by which success is judged.

The result was that many factories and companies moved to countries with lower labour costs and fewer controls. America lost millions of jobs, of people who until then had been a middle class — white, rural, with a social conscience. But the same happened in the rural world, of white, conservative Americans with little education and an unconscious racism towards workers of colour.

The wars and the financial collapse

Nor should it be forgotten that after the attack on the Twin Towers, the United States began the war in Afghanistan, from which it would withdraw ignominiously twenty years later. And shortly afterwards, in 2003, it began the invasion of Iraq, from which it withdrew in 2011, giving life to the Islamic Caliphate (ISIS), which would become a great element of destabilisation throughout the Middle East. During these years, Americans discover that their country is not invincible. It was supposed to overcome the trauma of Vietnam. Instead, the failure of the most powerful military machine in the world continues. In the end, all that will remain is a tragic balance sheet of ruins and dead, and a total expenditure of around eight trillion dollars. To put it in perspective, the American budget today is thirty trillion dollars.

But in my view, the final blow to the American dream came a few years later, with the collapse of Wall Street, an event which once again found me present while it was happening. Finance without controls had gone so far as to turn the stock exchange into a genuine casino, a place of ever riskier bets. Under Clinton, in 1999, a law was repealed which since 1923 had established a clear separation between deposit banks (those serving citizens and businesses, loans and mortgages) and investment banks, that is, banks of speculation. The capital of the deposit banks, which were not very profitable, flowed into the investment banks. Americans do not say, as we Europeans do, that they “gamble” on the stock exchange, but that they “invest” in it. And a great many citizens do so, as do their pension funds.

In 2008 the speculative bubble bursts, sweeps away Lehman Brothers, an icon of Wall Street, and gives rise to a crisis which obviously affects the whole world. It is calculated that all the countries of the world together had to commit some 20,000 dollars in rescue money for every citizen of the planet in order to avoid a total collapse of finance. In the crisis, millions upon millions of Americans lose their savings. Their pensions too are in danger. Since the decade of the Eighties, the bargaining power of the unions has been in continuous decline. Wages in real, purchasing terms have been steadily falling. Many citizens are struggling with precarious and part-time jobs with which they can barely reach the end of the month. Many have to hold down two jobs in order to survive. The poverty rate rises to 15 per cent, and child poverty to African levels. UNICEF’s figures are dramatic. And so begins the conviction that the elites are the enemies of the people, that politics no longer has anything to do with citizens’ real concerns. Electoral abstention increases. And so the immigrant, the labour force on which America was built, becomes the enemy who takes my job, pollutes my child’s classroom, takes my place in the hospital, and commits crimes and outrages.

Religion, sovereignism and the new right

It is not only politics that digs out this feeling of frustration and anger, which explains Trump’s great success. It is also religion. Fundamentalist evangelicals now number 60 million in the United States, and their message takes up exactly the economic and social vision of the Washington Consensus. We must compete, because God judges us by our success; whoever is poor is poor because he has not fought. They support an Israel that recovers its ancient kingdom of Samaria and Judea (and therefore a vast ethnic cleansing), because they preach that Jesus will make a “second coming”, a return to earth, only when Israel has returned to the time of Jesus. And in this world flourishes the sovereignism of Bannon, who wants to turn the right into a great international (later overshadowed by Musk, who wants an anti-system sovereignism of the far right). Catholic integralism flourishes, embraced by J. Vance, the vice-president placed there by Silicon Valley and a possible next President. The integralism that leads the Secretary of Defense (or rather of War, as he prefers it) to bring religion into the armed forces, to present the war against Iran in terms of religion. And a population in which the level of economic and social distress reaches 20 per cent sees the flourishing of the first trillionaire in history (let us look at a trillion: 1,000,000,000,000), who boasts of paying no taxes, eliminates American development aid, and dismisses tens of thousands of public servants without criterion.

The internet and the end of shared truth

Shortly afterwards comes the development of communications technology. In 2004 Facebook is born, Reddit in 2005, Twitter in 2006. All at once, millions of Americans find themselves connected to one another, bypassing the enormous media system of the United States, which was in any case in few hands. I was one of the great champions of the internet, until (I believe it was Bill Gates) someone launched a slogan: “Now it is not important to know; it is important to know where to look” — which brought me to a state of great concern. If I find, but do not possess, what I have looked for, it will slide off me, like water off a goose’s back.

But the problem is that the internet was not born as a common good, as a service for humanity. It was born as a source of profit, and with the orgy of available information, being consulted became fundamental. Hence the abandonment of any meaningful mechanism of ethical or professional control over the information in circulation. So, in order to keep the connection and not lose the user, priority went to the most sensational, extraordinary, striking information. Before long this would be exploited by creators of false or tendentious news, with a great flowering of conspiracy theories which, for example, see in the President of the Republic and the Pope a network of paedophiles covered by the secret services. I read, again I think in the NYT, that the FBI estimated at 45 million the number of people adhering to these conspiracies, which stripped the institutions of all legitimacy. And so the internet gave them a megaphone, which carried the most incredible ideas from the bar to the whole of society. And above all to the extremists, infinitely more fanatical than ordinary citizens.

Numerous studies and statistics tell us of the impact of the isolation that leads young people, instead of socialising, to shut themselves up in the internet, in a virtual world in which AI becomes the real friend and adviser. This falls upon a society that has always idealised the individual against the social, and where a winning political line sees in the reduction of the State the freedom of citizens, in taxes an unjust expropriation of the fruit of their labour, and in social spending, such as medical care, a clear socialist imprint.

Obviously, a reaction of suffering is under way in the United States. The Mayor of New York, who declares himself a socialist, has been elected, and other openly progressive figures are entering the field. But this is happening with a strong polarisation, with an intolerant and profound confrontation, which offers no glimpse, in the immediate future, of a path towards national consensus, but quite the contrary. Trump calls the Democrats “communists”, and politics has by now become the great instrument of division. The future does not look at all like a return to the America of dreams.

Bin Laden’s legacy and Europe

Bin Laden could never have imagined, in destroying the Twin Towers, that he would set in motion such a mechanism of destruction.

But his legacy is not measured only in treaties. It is measured also in everyday gestures, which we have stopped recognising as such. Today no one is surprised at having to arrive at the airport two hours before departure: shoes and belts in the tray, liquids in hundred-millilitre bottles, queues, scanners, searches. The new generations experience it as a law of nature, because they never knew the before. It was enough to turn up half an hour ahead, check in, and go straight to the gate. No controls. That world disappeared on a September morning, and it has never come back. This is terrorism’s most silent victory: not to have changed our ideas, but our habits, to the point that we no longer remember having had different ones.

We should also analyse how this mechanism did not remain in the United States. With different characteristics, and in a different reality, it spread to Europe as well. One need only look at the Maastricht Treaty, on which our European Union is based. Concluded in the Dutch town in 1992, at the height of the intoxication with the extreme capitalism of the Washington Consensus, it provides for obligations and competences in the economic field alone. The social field is part of an added document, which has no binding value. And now, out of 27 member states of the Union, a majority are sovereignist, and therefore opposed to any real power for Brussels. Next year we will have elections in Spain, France, Italy and Poland. Countries of great weight. If sovereignism prevails in these too, Europeans — who look upon Trump as an aberration — will have fulfilled his dream: to destroy the European Union.

Publisher of OtherNews, Italian-Argentine Roberto Savio is an economist, journalist, communication expert, political commentator, activist for social and climate justice and advocate of an anti-neoliberal global governance. He is co-founder of Inter Press Service (IPS) news agency and its President Emeritus.

IPS UN Bureau

An AfD election poster with the message: “Youth come to us”, reminiscent of both Nazi and Communist propaganda.

By Jan Lundius
STOCKHOLM, Sweden, Sep 14 2026 (IPS)

During summer months there is a certain news drought. Nevertheless, this year social media has been crowded with news from wars in the Middle East and Ukraine, while customary tales about grisly murders have not been neglected. In Sweden it is election year and summer reporting has been supplemented by a debate about “hate speech against ethnic groups”. If individual tragedies connected with murders upset people, many seem to be indifferent to the fact that entire population groups are targeted by politicians. Swedish social media is overloaded with outcries about “Muslim” immigration and concerns about Sweden becoming “Islamized” and in danger of being transformed into a new Afghanistan.

Prominent in this hyped propaganda are the Sweden Democrats. A nationalist, social conservative, and populist political party finding its roots in neo-Nazism. In the 2010 elections, this party entered the Swedish parliament with 5.7 percent of the national votes and it now reigns the nation in coalition with other right-wing parties. According to the Statistical Central Bureau, a state agency, was the Sweden Democrats with 18 percent of current approval Sweden’s second largest political party, after the Social Democrats, with 34 percent.

The Sweden Democrat’s chief ideologist is a former high school teacher, Richard Jomshof, who together with three comrades by the turn of the last century managed to steer away Sweden Democrats from the White Power Movement and neo-Nazism, while maintaining the party’s nationalist and anti-immigrant tenor. After the 2022 parliamentary elections the Sweden Democrats became part of the Government. Jomshof left his post as party secretary and became chairman of the Parliamentary Justice Committee, which prepares cases connected with the Swedish judicial system – courts, the prosecution service, the police and correctional services, as well as cases and laws related to the Criminal Code.

Jomshof used his position to propagate for a tougher stance against criminals with a “non-Swedish background” and to promote restrictions on immigration. One of Jomshof’s goals has been to warn Swedes about the “Islamization of our Homeland”. After publishing anti-Islamic cartoons on X Jomshof was close to be removed from his position as chairman of the Justice Committee. However, committee members sided with him while one of them characterized the accusations of “discrediting an entire population group” as nothing more than a common “political yap”. Nevertheless, a year ago, Jomshof stepped down as chair of the Committee, in protest after the Government had banned certain semi-automatic weapons.

After that Jomshof dedicated much of his time to write an “analysis” of Islam and recently published a book called Kafir, an Arab word for “infidel”, which has become a bestseller. Jomshof’s political stance and career as an “expert” on Islam is one example of the polarization that currently characterizes much of European politics – a tendency to turn any individual into a representative of an entire ethnic and/or religious group and throw her/him into one big pot where s/he becomes part of a one single problem – immigration.

Jomshof is an extreme nationalist representing an anti-immigrant political party, but that does not mean that every supporter of Sweden Democrats is a reformed Nazi and stout believer in Jomshof’s generalisations, likewise not every Muslim is a supporter of the extremist Islam Jomshof depicts. It is dangerous to bundle together individuals and label them all as extremists. Recently a young man equipped with sword and helmet entered a Swedish school and killed one pupil while gravely wounding two, a third escaped with minor injuries. He had apparently been inspired by the Norwegian Behring Breivik, who in 2011 massacred 77 people as a gesture to “combat multiculturalism and Muslim immigration”. In 2015, the Swede Anton Lundin-Pettersson murdered three persons for the same reason.

Gaining political advantages through xenophobia is just one ingredient in a larger European political landscape. That a small, marginal political party with Neo-Nazi roots after less than fifteen years ended up in the Swedish government re-confirms a phenomenon present all over Europe. On 15 September, there are general elections in Sweden and next year in France, Spain, Greece, Poland and Italy. All these countries have powerful parties with a nationalistic/xenophobic agenda. In France, the predecessor of National Rally was in 1972 founded by Jean-Marie Le Pen and then included some former members of the Nazi Waffen-SS. The Spanish Vox was established in 2013, benefitting from donations by ultra-conservative lobbies, such as HazteOír and CitizenGo. The Greek Golden Dawn was dissolved in 2020, after members of its top echelons had been convicted for serious crimes. In 2023, the Greek Supreme Court blocked its successor party, Hellenes, from participating in the general elections, a ruling that still stands for the elections in 2027. However, a plethora of smaller parties have taken up its agenda. The Polish Law and Justice Party is a conservative outbreak from the labor movement Solidarność, with a huge following and an agenda based on political Catholicism, strong conservatism, anti-liberalism, nationalism, and Euroscepticism. Brothers of Italy finds its roots in MSI, Movimento Sociale Italiano, a fascist party founded after the death of Mussolini. Through the general elections in 2013, Brothers of Italy gained nine seats in the Parliament, after obtaining two percent of the votes. According to the Italian polling and research firm Only Numbers, Brothers of Italy is currently Italy’s largest party and after the 2022 elections its leader, Giorgia Meloni, is Prime Minister of Italy. How could those originally small parties, some with a quite sordid background, in such a short time become so powerful?

One reason might be that by exposing outrageous and extreme opinions, which a political establishment would be ashamed of uttering, fringe parties might obtain attention from a generally liberal press. While warning the general public about such “fanatics”, liberal media spread their ideas and create an increasing interest. In a well calculated moment before the Swedish elections, Richard Jomshof published his untrustworthy and generalizing book about Islam. Although it was issued by a small and rather unknown publisher it received extreme attention by Swedish media – TV, newspapers and the web – and thus became an immediate bestseller. As Oscar Wilde once stated: “The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about”.

A similar phenomenon is currently under way in Italy. In 2023, the general Roberto Vannacci self-published a book on Amazon, Il mondo al contrario , The Upside-Down World, sparking a furious backlash and drawing heavy criticism for its contents. The Italian Armed Forces quickly distanced themselves from General Vannacci’s ideas. The defence minister stated that he had “discredited the Army, the Defence and the Constitution.” Vannacci, grateful for all attention, continues to spread his homophobia and misogyny, attacking immigration policies and environmentalism, while defending Russia’s war on Ukraine. He is now a welcome guest on TV, participates in debates with reputed politicians and academicians, while he recently has founded a political party.

The recent landslide election victory of the AfD, Alternative for Germany, in the federal state of Saxony-Anhalt has sent shock waves through liberal Europe. While being part of the larger Federal Republic of Germany, Saxony-Anhalt hosts just three percent of the nation’s entire population and has its second lowest GDP per capita. Nevertheless, the victory of its Saxony branch now fuels AfD’s hope to take the reins of the entire German Republic. AfD’s ultra-nationalistic agenda claims that Germany has had enough of guilt feelings about the repression and mass killings of the Nazi Regime. The past has to be reinterpreted and the party now asserts that Germany is in need of “less Hitler and more Bismarck”, i.e. the Chancellor who in the 19th century united Germany under the slogan “Blood and Iron”.

AfD has accordingly re-introduced the concept of Völkisch, folksy, used by the Nazis to denote a battle against “radicalism” in the form of modern art and foreign influences, while fomenting pride in everything the Party deemed as “German”. However, the concept was older and originally developed in opposition to the socio-cultural changes of modernity. AfD’s Saxony-Anhalt party programme intends to purge ”slander” of Germany from school education. No funding will be granted to organisations maintaining sites of Nazi terror – AfD’s leadership has condemned Berlin’s Holocaust Monument as a “national disgrace” – and the the party has also demanded that the world-famous Bauhaus complex in Dessau ought to be closed. In the 1920s this learning centre was a highly influential focus of innovative approaches to art and architecture, until the Nazis closed it down in 1933. It did later re-emerge as a museum, research centre, and cultural landmark, being part of the UNESCO Heritage Sites. The Saxony-Anhalt branch of AfD is furthermore a representative of what has been called eastalgia, i.e. nostalgia for the times when Saxony-Anhalt was part of the Communist, Soviet dominated East Germany. Consistent with this perception and displeasure with the central government’s spending on Ukraine’s defence, AfD is a stout supporter of Russia’s war on Ukraine.

Before the 1990 reunification of West and East Germany, Saxony-Anhalt was an important centre for a polluting heavy industry. One of East Germany’s most famous authors, Monika Maron, wrote a novel called Flugasche, Flying Ashes, in which she described the bleak, contaminated land of Saxony. Since then, the German Federal Republic has successfully cleaned up the traces of a ruthless industrialization and gradually transformed Saxony-Anhalt into an increasingly green state. However, this initiative came at the cost of the shutting down of several large industries, resulting in increased unemployment. Since 1990, Saxony-Anhalt has lost 750 000 inhabitants, mainly skilled young people, who have moved to the “West”, a fourth of the state’s population. Those left behind are an aging population and unskilled, unemployed young people, while the state has been partly repopulated by immigrants coming from foreign countries. They now constitute a tenth of the population. This has left a fertile ground for a populist party attracting disappointed old people and depressed youngsters, presented with the chimera of a happy pre-war Germany and/or Communist East Germany, which in reality are now forgotten and probably never existed.

A general sense of insecurity, reduced GDP and increasing unemployment harass several Europeans, not least young people. An embellished nostalgia for an actually forgotten past, assumed to have been annihilated by hordes of immigrants and corrupt liberals, has made Europeans affected by ultra-conservative parties, promulgating hazardous and divisive ideas. Representatives of murky ideologies are by media provided an attention they do not deserve. Excessive media interest, especially when marginal fanatics begin to spread their poisonous seed, might strengthen their outreach. Critical analysis, research and education are despised by dark forces who deliberately divulge their message through easy-to-understand, diluted and digestible propaganda and fake news. An ominous development that demands urgent action.

IPS UN Bureau

Central Asian states mark the 20th anniversary of the Nuclear-Weapon-Free Zone Treaty with a joint foreign ministers' statement Credit: Kazakhstan MFA

By Katsuhiro Asagiri
TOKYO, Japan, Sep 11 2026 (IPS)

Twenty years after five Central Asian states signed a landmark treaty banning nuclear weapons across their region, their foreign ministers have used the anniversary to warn that faltering arms-control agreements, nuclear modernization and deepening international mistrust are placing global security under growing strain.

Central Asia Nuclear Free Zones

The ministers described the treaty as a symbol of Central Asia’s transformation from a region where nuclear weapons were once tested and deployed into one of the leaders of global disarmament efforts.

That history gives the anniversary weight. Semipalatinsk — now Semey — was the Soviet Union’s principal nuclear testing ground, where 456 tests were conducted between 1949 and 1989 across a site roughly the size of Belgium. An estimated 1.5 million people were affected by the fallout, and the health consequences have passed through three generations. Kazakhstan closed the site on August 29, 1991.

Semipalatinsk Former Nuclear Weapon Test site. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri

Warning After Another Failed NPT Review

The anniversary arrives at a difficult moment for the global nuclear order. The ministers reaffirmed the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) as the cornerstone of efforts to prevent proliferation and ultimately eliminate nuclear weapons, but expressed regret that its Eleventh Review Conference, held in New York from April 27 to May 22 this year, ended without a substantive outcome — the third consecutive review conference to close without consensus, following those of 2015 and 2022.

They voiced particular concern over insufficient progress toward disarmament under Article VI of the NPT, the cessation of key arms-control arrangements and an alarming trend toward the modernization of nuclear arsenals, placing special responsibility on nuclear-weapon states and calling for new, verifiable mechanisms to prevent a renewed arms race.

Even as the review process stalled, the zones drew attention as one of the regime’s more durable achievements. At a Kazakh-hosted event on the margins of the conference, Robin Geiß, Director of the UN Institute for Disarmament Research, credited the Central Asian zone with a distinctive contribution in linking security to development, environmental protection and public health, while Mark Melamed of the Nuclear Threat Initiative cautioned that the zones’ achievements cannot be assumed to endure.

CTBT at 30 — Still Not in Force

On September 24, the CTBT will mark 30 years since it opened for signature. Yet it has still not entered into force. The Central Asian states called for its earliest possible entry into force and urged all states to refrain from any action that could undermine the norm against nuclear explosive testing.

The appeal follows a joint statement issued on August 29 — the anniversary of the test site’s closure, observed by the United Nations as the International Day against Nuclear Tests — in which Kazakh Foreign Minister Yermek Kosherbayev and Robert Floyd, Executive Secretary of the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty Organization, urged renewed action to end testing permanently. Much of the treaty’s machinery already functions despite its legal limbo: 308 facilities have been certified, bringing the International Monitoring System to more than 90 percent completion.

More than 300 International Monitoring System (IMS) facilities certified out of the 337 the CTBTO has planned are already in operation. Credit: CTBTO

The ministers also welcomed the 2014 signing by the five NPT-recognized nuclear-weapon states of the protocol providing negative security assurances to the zone. Four have ratified it; the ministers expressed hope that the United States would complete its ratification.

A Regional Model in a Fragmenting Nuclear Order

The declaration went beyond treaties to emphasize disarmament education, backing continued observance of the International Day for Disarmament and Non-Proliferation Awareness — a Kyrgyz initiative marked annually on March 5, the date the NPT entered into force — and stressing the importance of involving young people.

Nuclear-weapon-free zones cannot substitute for the disarmament obligations of states that possess nuclear arsenals. But the Semipalatinsk Treaty demonstrates that non-nuclear states are not merely spectators in the global nuclear order: by acting collectively they can create binding regional norms and press nuclear-weapon states for security assurances.

Central Asia has also shown that such zones can become more than geographic prohibitions. The five states have signed memoranda of understanding with the African Commission on Nuclear Energy and with the Agency for the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons in Latin America and the Caribbean, which administers the 1967 Treaty of Tlatelolco, and Kazakhstan hosted in Astana in August 2024 the second meeting of representatives of all existing zones. The limits are equally clear: three decades of advocacy have not produced a zone in the Middle East, which the ministers again called for.

Equally important is the link between diplomacy and human experience. The Nevada-Semipalatinsk movement, which helped drive the test site’s closure, showed that public pressure could move nuclear policy — and for Kazakhstan, cooperation with civil society has since been less a supplement to disarmament diplomacy than part of its foundation.

September 8 carries another anniversary. On that date in 1957, before 50,000 young people gathered at a stadium in Yokohama, Josei Toda, second president of the Soka Gakkai, issued a declaration calling for the abolition of nuclear weapons, condemning them as an absolute evil that threatened the right of people everywhere to exist and entrusting their abolition to the next generation. The peace activity of Soka Gakkai International (SGI), a lay Buddhist organization, traces its origin to that declaration.

A Group photo of participants of the regional conference on the humanitarian consequences of nuclear weapons and nuclear-free-zone in Central Asia held on August 29, 2023. Credit: Jibek Joly TV Channel

Official portrait of Kassym-Jomart Tokayev. Credit: President of the Republic of Kazakhstan

For Japanese readers the connection is direct. Hiroshima and Nagasaki experienced the use of nuclear weapons in war; Semipalatinsk experienced the consequences of testing them. During his visit to Japan in December 2025, President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev warned at United Nations University in Tokyo that nuclear risks were rising again, invoking all three names in a call for concrete steps to reduce nuclear danger.

Twenty years after the treaty was signed, its significance may lie not only in what Central Asia chose to reject, but in what it has continued to build — a regional security architecture that seeks to make nuclear weapons less central, less legitimate and, ultimately, unnecessary.

Note: This article is brought to you by　INPS Japan in collaboration with Soka Gakkai International in consultative status with ECOSOC.

IPS UN Bureau

 
CIVICUS discusses the implications of the Philippines’ proposed anti-disinformation bill with Josalee Deinla, Secretary-General of the National Union of Peoples’ Lawyers, a civil society organisation that defends civil liberties in the Philippines.

Josalee Deinla

What’s the Digital Media Anti-False Information Act about, and why is it contested?

The proposed Digital Media Anti-False Information Act combines two regulatory approaches. The first targets the infrastructure of disinformation, including political advertising, recommender systems and the commercial systems that amplify and monetise content. Regulation of this infrastructure makes sense. Platforms decide what gets ranked and amplified, and their revenue depends on the engagement that attention-generating content produces.

The second approach is punitive, targeting individual speakers and operators. The law would make it unlawful to knowingly and wilfully publish, disseminate, finance, direct or materially assist in spreading false information with knowledge of its falsity or reckless disregard for the truth and with intent to cause verifiable public harm or a serious threat to national security. The penalty is set at six to 12 years in prison and a fine of up to PHP 2 million (approx. US$32,500).

The main problem is that the bill places its harshest burden at the end of the disinformation chain and its lightest at the point where disinformation is amplified and made profitable. Platforms face only administrative penalties and written warnings, while individual speakers face imprisonment and heavy fines.

If platform regulation, disclosure, correction, labelling and de-amplification can protect the public interest, the state must explain why individual speakers should face up to 12 years in prison. The law’s criminal provisions are hard to justify as necessary. Criminal law should be the last resort against expression, not the first.

The bill also relies on broad, overlapping definitions. ‘Disinformation’ requires knowledge of falsity or reckless disregard for the truth, plus intent to cause serious public harm. ‘False information’ is broader still, encompassing any demonstrably false statement presented as fact, regardless of materiality or context. Because prohibited acts draw on both definitions, the accused is left guessing which applies to which charge.

The consequences could be worse still. Three other Senate bills are pending before the Committee on Public Information and Mass Media, including one that would authorise the Department of Justice’s Office of Cybercrime to issue access-blocking, rectification, takedown and preventive takedown orders. It targets content causing harm to individuals, public order or national interests, a far broader test than the requirement that harm be material and concrete.

Why is the bill being pushed now?

There’s a genuine disinformation problem in the Philippines. Elections now depend heavily on digital campaigning, particularly on social media, and coordinated influence operations, historical revisionism, paid influencers and troll networks have all become part of routine political competition. Concerns over foreign interference have added a national-security dimension to the debate.

But the political context is inseparable from the legislation. The bill’s authorship is revealing. It was promoted by Representative Ferdinand Alexander ‘Sandro’ Marcos III, a son of President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. Ironically, the same political dynasty now demanding tighter legal controls on disinformation used social media’s commercial architecture to return to power in 2022.

The state is not a neutral outsider arriving to repair a corrupted information environment. Political elites participate in that environment, using the same advertising systems, amplification mechanisms, consultants, influencers and platforms they now propose to regulate. A government that actively competes in the information marketplace should not also acquire broad and insufficiently constrained authority to referee the truth of that marketplace.

The imbalance is visible even within the bill. Section 16 requires government agencies to maintain open-data portals and correct erroneous or misleading public statements within a reasonable timeframe after discovery, but it creates no enforcement mechanism and no penalty for non-compliance. Section 9, by contrast, exposes individual speakers who violate the law to six to 12 years’ imprisonment. The bill treats disinformation by the state as a matter of administrative housekeeping, while disinformation by individual speakers can become a serious felony.

The timing therefore reflects two developments: a real deterioration of the information environment and a political effort to acquire greater control over the consequences of that deterioration.

What risks do its provisions pose for civil society?

Alongside prosecution and what comes with it – arrest, detention, legal costs, disrupted work and stigma – the law, if enacted, will change behaviour long before any court decides guilt. For civil society organisations, human rights defenders, journalists and researchers, the cost lies in the interval between accusation and acquittal. No conviction is needed for the law to produce silence.

The bill’s safeguards don’t answer the central problem. Most operate only as defences or rules of construction after investigation has already begun. They may ultimately prevail, but the chilling effect operates in the process that precedes that determination.

Section 4(d) also raises a serious problem. It applies to a person who acts ‘on behalf of, in coordination with, or under the substantial direction or control of’ a foreign state, foreign intelligence service, foreign military force or foreign-funded covert influence operation. This is dangerously broad. Philippine civil society groups, human rights defenders, independent media, lawyers and universities routinely communicate with foreign embassies, foreign universities, international donors, international organisations and United Nations (UN) treaty bodies and special procedures mandate holders. All these relationships are part of everyday international advocacy.

The problem becomes more acute if this bill is read alongside separate foreign interference and malign foreign influence legislation now pending in Congress, which would create a Counter Foreign Interference Council and penalise foreign interference. The impacts could be cumulative. An organisation may first be accused of disseminating false information, then characterised as coordinating with foreign interests, then subjected to scrutiny of its funding and institutional relationships. Together, these measures could allow the state to scrutinise what civil society says, who it works with, who supports it and how its information reaches the public.

This is why any law allowing the government to determine whether political information is false, harmful to public order, malicious or threatening to national security demands exceptional caution. Responding to disinformation can’t mean giving the government a mandate to police truth.

How is civil society responding, and what support does it need?

Civil society opposition has been substantial, but it must be sustained. On 25 July, around 50 academics, civil society representatives, journalists and technologists gathered at the University of the Philippines College of Media and Communication, while at least a dozen organisations issued a joint call urging Congress to reject the bill. Opposition to the bill can easily be caricatured as opposition to regulating disinformation, but this is a false choice.

Civil society acknowledges the harm of disinformation but contests where the law places responsibility for it. Disinformation in the Philippines rarely stems from individual users making bad choices online. Much of it is organised, financed and professionally produced. Political operatives retain consultants who assemble networks of paid influencers and account operators. Coordinated pages manufacture the appearance of organic public sentiment, while platforms supply the distribution systems through which these narratives gain scale. The individual user is often the last link in a much longer chain, and the law should follow that chain upward.

Civil society proposes that allocation of responsibility should begin with the political principal who commissions the operation, the financier who pays for it, the strategist who designs it, the network that carries it out and the platform that amplifies and profits from it. Users should not become the preferred target of enforcement simply because they are the easiest to find.

Civil society needs support at several levels. It needs lawyers who can intervene while the Senate text is still being shaped and, if necessary, mount constitutional challenges later. It also needs technical expertise capable of interrogating platform claims about advertising tools, algorithms, content moderation and recommendation systems, and resources to protect human rights defenders, journalists and researchers, who may face complaints, digital attacks, investigations, surveillance and red-tagging – being vilified as a communist – once the law is in force.

International support matters too. Philippine organisations that receive foreign grants, work with international media and research institutions or engage UN mechanisms should not have to defend those relationships as though they were inherently suspect. Cross-border cooperation and funding are routine features of academic research, election monitoring, human rights work and journalism, and should not be collapsed into the language of foreign interference.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

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Panelists and participants discuss Japan’s death penalty at a symposium examining capital punishment through the lens of human dignity, held on September 5, 2026, at St. Ignatius Church in Yotsuya, Tokyo. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

By Katsuhiro Asagiri
TOKYO, Japan, Sep 8 2026 (IPS)

A symposium examining Japan’s death penalty through the lens of human dignity was held on September 5 at Joseph Hall of St. Ignatius Church in Yotsuya, Tokyo.

Brochure of the Symposium titled, “Rethinking the Death Penalty: With Human Dignity in View.” Credit: The Association of Religious Leaders and Scholars Considering the Death Penalty

It was supported by eight organizations: the Jesuit Social Center, the Conference on Religion in the Modern World (CORMOS), the Japan Buddhist Federation, the International Institute for the Study of Religions, the Sophia University Institute of Grief Care, the Japanese Committee of the World Conference of Religions for Peace (WCRP), the Soka Gakkai Peace Committee, and the Institute of Engaged Buddhism.

The gathering brought together legal scholars, journalists, a bereaved family member, a former prison officer, younger participants and religious figures, each approaching Japan’s death penalty from a different experience and perspective.

Religious studies scholar Susumu Shimazono stressed that the purpose was not to decide whether capital punishment should be abolished, but to listen and learn.

The questions extended beyond punishment: how to support victims, prevent wrongful convictions and violence, and hold institutions accountable for decisions over life and death.

The international picture is mixed. Amnesty International reported that 145 countries had abolished capital punishment in law or practice by the end of 2025. Yet recorded executions rose to at least 2,707 that year, excluding unverified totals from China, North Korea and Vietnam.

Japan’s Justice Ministry has defended retention by citing public opinion and serious crime. But public support and justification under human rights principles are different questions.

Safeguards Before Irreversible Punishment

Prof. Makoto Ida. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

He also distinguished wrongful convictions from sentencing errors: even where guilt is established, overlooked mitigating circumstances may lead to death rather than life imprisonment.

He also expressed his view that hanging constitutes cruel punishment under Japan’s Constitution.

“Immediate abolition of the death penalty is not the only option,” he said.

Stronger safeguards, reviewing execution methods and temporarily suspending executions were possible steps. Ida argued that victims’ demands for punishment could not themselves justify capital punishment, while acknowledging their grief and anger.

Deterrence required equal caution. A 2012 U.S. National Research Council review found that the studies it examined could not establish whether capital punishment increased, reduced or had no effect on homicide rates. That was not proof of no effect.

Ida nevertheless urged that public fears be taken seriously. Reform must address organized crime and reoffending, rather than simply replace one punishment with another.

The Human Cost of Execution

Keiko Horikawa. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

She also recalled interviewing a former judicial research official involved in preparing the Supreme Court ruling underlying the Nagayama standard, the factors courts consider when choosing between death and life imprisonment. He disputed treating those factors as a formula for execution.

Horikawa’s book Kyokaishi (The Prison Chaplain) follows a Buddhist priest who accompanied condemned prisoners. She recalled his words:

“No one has ever been made happy by an execution.”

This was his observation, not a verdict on every bereaved family’s experience. It nevertheless raised a crucial distinction: completing a sentence does not necessarily end the suffering surrounding a crime.

Horikawa called for suspending executions and openly examining victims’ support, prison officers’ psychological burdens, costs and hanging itself.

A Bereaved Sister’s Unanswered Question

Nobuko. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

“I want to prevent reoffending and stop more people from experiencing this grief,” she said.

She resisted being assigned to either camp. Some bereaved people want execution; others want offenders to live with their crimes; still others cannot bear to think about the case.

“I think each is an expression of the grief that person carries,” she said.

Nobuko acknowledged that offenders retain human rights. “Recognizing the human rights of offenders does not, in itself, deny the human rights of victims.”

But who addresses the rights taken from those killed, and the needs of families left behind? Support should not depend on whether a family favors capital punishment.

The United Nations’ 1985 declaration on justice for crime victims encompasses access to justice, fair treatment, restitution, compensation and assistance. Punishment alone is not the whole response.

Nobuko asked a further question: “What kind of society would prevent people from becoming offenders who face the death penalty?”

Her conversations with prisoners revealed experiences of abuse and isolation. Understanding those histories does not excuse crime. But punishment after violence cannot substitute for examining whether earlier support might have prevented it.

She has begun creating opportunities for parents to share experiences. That is her choice, not an obligation other bereaved families should be expected to shoulder. Prevention also requires institutions, not merely individual goodwill.

“I am neither for nor against the death penalty,” she said, describing her determination to keep thinking about life, guilt and suffering.

Toshio Sakamoto. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

Former prison officer Toshio Sakamoto argued that restrictions on outside contact make changes in condemned prisoners difficult for society to see.

He also recalled his long acquaintance with Iwao Hakamada, who spent decades under sentence of death before his acquittal at a retrial in 2024. The case raises questions about interrogation, evidence disclosure and timely remedies.

Trust in justice depends not only on the authority to decide, but on the ability to acknowledge and correct error before irreversible harm occurs.

He also questioned increasingly lengthy life imprisonment. Japan’s life sentences permit parole in law; the issue is how public safety, victims’ concerns and evidence of rehabilitation are assessed in practice.

For Sorane Sakihama, a graduate student from Okinawa, studying in France first challenged her assumption that capital punishment was justice for victims. International exchanges later brought her face to face with people affected by wrongful death sentences.

Invoking the Okinawan expression “Nuchi du takara” — life is the greatest treasure — she connected her opposition to execution with her opposition to war. She emphasized creating spaces where young people can discuss difficult issues without needing settled opinions.

Sorane Sakihama, a graduate student from Okinawa, speaks about how international dialogue and her encounters with people affected by wrongful death sentences shaped her views on capital punishment, during a symposium at St. Ignatius Church in Tokyo on September 5, 2026. Credit: Katsuhiro Asagiri / INPS Japan

From Dialogue to Accountability

SDGs Goal No 16.

Sustainable Development Goal 16 does not explicitly require abolition. It does call for reducing violence, protecting children, equal access to justice, accountable institutions and inclusive decision-making.

That provides a practical framework: Are victims receiving sustained support? Can doubtful convictions be effectively reviewed? Are prison staff’s burdens recognized? Is prevention reducing harm? Can citizens obtain the information needed to judge the system?

Disagreement over abolition need not prevent scrutiny of these questions.

Can people change? What does atonement mean? How should society support victims and prevent violence? How much power over life and death should the state possess?

A new dialogue on those questions began in a Tokyo church.

This article is brought to you by INPS Japan in collaboration with Soka Gakkai International in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.

IPS UN Bureau

It is nearly a year since the UN Security Council (UNSC) adopted Resolution 2803 on 17 November, 2025, endorsing President Trump’s 20-point framework ostensibly designed to end the war in Gaza and create a roadmap for long-term stability. It is not clear what progress has been made. In August 2026 The Jerusalem Post reported “the IDF continues almost daily strikes in Gaza”, killing more than 1,200 Palestinians since the US-brokered ceasefire deal came into effect, seizing more territory, and continuing to restrict the movement of people and goods into and out of Gaza. Nickolay Mladenov, the UN High Representative on the Board of Peace, wrote in early August 2026 that “two days of strikes across Gaza have killed civilians and destroyed medical supplies that people depend on”. Ironically, this genocidal strike happened only a few days after a US-brokered Hamas disarmament deal, which Trump called, “a monumental step” towards peace and security.

Anis Chowdhury

In May 2026 the Board of Peace claimed in its report to the Security Council that the conditions for Palestinians in Gaza have improved. However, the claim contradicts the findings of the UN Commission of Inquiry, headed by Justice Muralidhar, that “Israeli authorities and security forces have deliberately targeted Palestinian children, resulting in genocide and atrocity crimes in the Gaza Strip and war crimes in the West Bank”.

Earlier in a Conference Room Paper published in September 2025, the Commission established that the Israeli authorities and security forces had committed and were continuing to commit genocidal acts with the specific intent to destroy, in whole or in part, the Palestinian group in Gaza. This is despite the International Court of Justice issuing three binding orders for provisional measures, detailing the catastrophic conditions in Gaza and risks of irreparable prejudice to the rights of the Palestinian group.

Echoing the Commission, speakers at the UNSC on 28 August 2026 warned that Gaza is at a total breaking point, under constant attack with 2 million people still trapped, despite the Trump-negotiated October 2025 ceasefire and the Board’s new peace plan. Athena Rayburn, Executive Director of the Association of International Development Agencies said, “success must be measured by whether the Board of Peace, international stabilization force and National Committee for the Administration of Gaza provide immediate protection for civilians; and in the long term, whether they move Gaza towards the required legal endpoint: The end of Israel’s unlawful presence and realization of the Palestinian people’s right to self-determination”.

Exclusionary Board of (un)Peace

Following the UNSC endorsement, Trump launched “Board of Peace” on the sidelines of the World Economic Forum on 22 January 2026. Trump, the self-assumed Chair of the Board, believed, “This Board has the chance to be one of the most consequential bodies ever created … to end decades of suffering, stop generations of hatred and bloodshed, and forge a beautiful, everlasting, and glorious peace for that region”.

However, many, including senior US lawmakers, view the Board as Trump’s attempt to undermine the United Nations, which he has repeatedly criticised. The Board’s charter makes no reference to either Gaza or the UN even though the original UN mandate for the Board called for it to focus on Gaza’s reconstruction and to aid the 2.2 million Palestinians forcibly displaced by Israeli forces. Instead, according to its charter, the Board would “secure enduring peace in areas affected or threatened by conflict”. The Board’s charter also envisions that it will endure beyond the end of 2027 – the expiry date of the UNSC’s endorsement – as will Trump’s stewardship over it

While Trump could potentially chair the Board for life, its membership is solely by Trump’s invitation and requiring at least US$1bn contribution. Palestine is not a member, but Israel and its prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu – who faces an International Criminal Court (ICC) arrest warrant over alleged war crimes in Gaza – are part of the board. Furthermore, a member of the Trump-appointed Executive Board is also Israel’s appointed representative in the US-led Civil Military Coordination Center tasked with humanitarian relief in Gaza.

Palestinians have been assigned to its lower-tier technocratic committee, while former UK prime minister and “war-criminal”, Tony Blair, Trump’s son-in-law, Jared Kushner, and Trump’s long-time friend and real estate investor, Steve Witkoff, sit on the executive board along with US Secretary of State, Marco Rubio.

How can a so-called Peace Board so intertwined with the genocidal entities be entrusted to alleviate Palestinian suffering? Is it a surprise that the air strikes and other attacks on civilian areas in Gaza have intensified even damaging UN facilities? On 25 August 2026 Israeli forces forcibly entered UNRWA’s Kalandia Training Centre in East Jerusalem and unlawfully seized it, ignoring the fact that it is an inviolable UN premise immune from any form of interference.

Unaccountable and whimsical

Meanwhile, Marco Rubio disclosed during his testimony before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee recently that the Trump administration had decided to transform the Board of Peace from a public international organization made up of member states (akin to the United Nations) into an international nongovernmental organization (INGO). He gave no indication as to how and when that decision was made, violating UNSC resolution 2803 which warranted that the Board would have international legal personality and be subject to international law as a multilateral organisation.

Transforming the Board into an INGO may better conform to the Board’s exclusionary structure, which gives Trump ultimate decision-making authority, including over financial matters. Rubio explicitly said during his testimony that the US Congress can have oversight only on the money that the US puts in while he was vague about the fiduciary arrangement of the Board’s finance. In the meantime, investigative journalism uncovered serious financial irregularities, opacity and conflict of interest involving Kushner, Witkoff and some prominent Israeli entities.

Alarmingly, making the Board an INGO removes member states’ power to steer the Board and to mitigate the Trump administration’s worst impulses. Trump’s inner circle will continue to call the shots, with Kushner saying the Board will be run “like we do [it] in the private sector”, while the Board is being directed by figures on the Israeli and US political right.

UNSC must disendorse (un)Peace Board

The members of the UNSC voted in favour of endorsing Trump’s Comprehensive Plan to End the Gaza Conflict and the Board of Peace as a pragmatic step despite some trepidation due to the plan’s vague terms and lack of a timetable associated with its phases that would culminate in a political horizon for Palestinians. They hoped that Trump, given his relationship with Netanyahu – an alleged war-criminal – would be able to stop him from committing genocide of the Palestinians.

But Trump continues to condone Israel’s ceasefire violations as intensified Israeli attacks kill thousands of innocent Palestinians. Trump and his so-called Board of Peace failed to condemn Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir who openly called for killing “30 to 40” Palestinians in Gaza nightly. Nor have they condemned Chief Sephardic Rabbi David Yosef who asserted, “there is no such thing as a Palestinian people” and Palestinians have “no rights”, despite a global outcry.

Meanwhile Trump’s Board of Peace dismissed pragmatic approaches to Hamas’ disarmament. Instead, it has promoted ideas of a hyper-developed “new Gaza” paying little heed to Palestinians’ wishes or to their history. These neo-colonial plans undermine any real prospect of self-determination.

In light of the Trump plan’s manifest failures and the Peace Board’s violations of UNSC mandate, including its financial impropriety, UNSC members should urgently force a vote calling for the withdrawal of the Council’s endorsement. Failing to do so would allow Trump and Israel to use the alleged comprehensive peace plan to provide a cover for Israel’s genocide, while the self-styled Board of Peace undermines the United Nations.

Anis Chowdhury, Emeritus Professor, Western Sydney University (Australia). He held senior UN positions in Bangkok and New York and served as Special Assistant to the Chief Advisor for Finance (with the status and rank of State Minister) in the Professor Yunus-led Interim Government. E-mail: anis.z.chowdhury@gmail.com; a.chowdhury@westernsydney.edu.au

IPS UN Bureau

A new UNICEF report reveals that 1 in 5 children surveyed have faced tech-facilitated sexual abuse in a single year. Children in protracted crises have been made more vulnerable, as perpetrators are more likely to weaponize economic vulnerability. Credit: UNICEF/Karel Prinsloo

By Oritro Karim
UNITED NATIONS, Sep 3 2026 (IPS)

A new report from UNICEF finds that approximately 1 in 5 of all children surveyed reported facing tech-facilitated sexual abuse or exploitation in a single year.

In the past two decades, digital technologies and spaces have become intertwined with all aspects of daily life, introducing new risks to children’s safety, particularly for children in protracted crises.

Largely driven by persistent structural barriers among tech platforms and governments, rampant underreporting, and a critical lack of protection frameworks and support services for victims, tech-facilitated sexual exploitation continues to have long-term adverse impacts on millions of children while fostering an environment of impunity for perpetrators.

These factors were examined in detail in a new report from the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), titled Through Children’s Eyes: How Digital Technologies Enable Child Sexual Abuse, which draws upon findings collected across 21 countries.

“More than 20 million children across the countries studied were subjected to unwanted explicit sexual content or exploitation online, often in the digital spaces where they learn, play, and connect with friends,” said UNICEF Executive Director Catherine Russell. “These experiences cause profound emotional and mental distress. Many children suffer in silence, unsure where to turn for help. We cannot look away.”

Children subjected to tech-facilitated abuse and exploitation face heightened risks of adverse mental health conditions, many of which are long-term and can significantly affect their social development. The report notes that victims were roughly four times more likely to report self-harm, suicidal thoughts and behaviours, and elevated levels of anxiety. In Mexico and North Macedonia, UNICEF stated that the risk of suicidal ideation among children was around eight times higher when compared to the global average, while in Pakistan, the risk of self-harm was about seven times higher.

Additionally, social workers and psychologists interviewed by UNICEF reported numerous cases of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) among victims, which is associated with difficulty trusting others or forming new relationships, worsened school performance, developing substance abuse conditions, or engaging in harmful or risky behaviours.

It is estimated that roughly 60 percent of all cases recorded by UNICEF occurred on social media and 14 percent occurred in online gaming. Approximately half of all social media-facilitated abuse took place on Facebook, with considerable percentages also found on WhatsApp, Instagram, Snapchat, and TikTok. 57 percent of these cases involved a perpetrator who was already known to the victim, while in 9 of the 21 surveyed countries, the perpetrator was another child.

UNICEF experts warn that the true scale of tech-facilitated sexual exploitation far exceeds reported figures due to widespread underreporting. Fewer than 1 percent of cases were reported to law enforcement or support service personnel, while roughly 4 in 10 cases were never disclosed to anyone.

The primary reasons victims avoid disclosing abuse include fear of harassment or not being taken seriously, persisting social stigmas surrounding survivors of sex-based crimes, and children simply not knowing about or not having access to adequate psychosocial support and justice programs. This often results in a culture of impunity for perpetrators while facilitating future exploitation.

For example, girls who are victims of tech-facilitated sexual abuse are often blamed or shamed by their communities, particularly in contexts with rigid patriarchal structures.

“There were many [challenges]. Mainly in my social environment, something that worried me a lot was how to relate to society after what happened,” said a young woman from Mexico who was a victim of tech-facilitated sexual abuse. “I did not know how they would react if I told them what happened to me; I was afraid of facing that. Well, the school environment too…Mainly it affects my emotional health; it made me feel depression and anxiety.”

On the other hand, when boys share that they have experienced tech-facilitated sexual abuse, their accounts are often minimized, and they are expected to cope quietly. Oftentimes, perpetrators also use threats of revealing or falsely implying a boy’s sexual orientation as a means of extortion.

Although tech-facilitated sexual abuse and exploitation affect children everywhere regardless of geography or income level, perpetrators often weaponize economic vulnerability. Children living in conflict or crisis-entrenched settings are at a heightened risk, as protection, support, and justice systems are severely strained. Daniel Kardefelt-Winther, the head of UNICEF’s research programme on Children and Digital Technologies, told Inter Press Service that risk is shaped by a range of factors, including economic circumstances, children’s relationships, and access to support services.

“Perpetrators may exploit the economic hardship some children face by offering money or gifts in exchange for sexual images or videos,” says Kardefelt-Winther, who is also the leader author of the report. “Economic need can make it difficult for children to refuse these offers, while some may not initially recognise the experience as abuse precisely because money or other benefits are being provided in return.”

Kardefelt-Winther adds that the consequences of tech-facilitated abuse can oftentimes leave digital spaces entirely, translating to real-world security risks for millions of children. For example, some children described being contacted online by strangers who coerced or deceived children into meeting in person, where they were subsequently sexually abused. In other cases, perpetrators obtained sexual images of a child and used them to blackmail children into meeting in person.

In an effort to combat tech-based harm affecting children, several countries have enacted or proposed limitations on social media access for minors, including Australia in December 2025, as well as Brazil, Indonesia, Malaysia, and the United Arab Emirates throughout 2026. Further legislation is pending in France, the United Kingdom, Greece, Canada, Denmark, and Turkey.

These efforts have proven to be quite controversial. Tech platforms warn that these measures risk user privacy, whereas youth groups argue that the restrictions infringe on free speech and isolate young people from their communities. Furthermore, human rights groups state that restricting social media for minors is not the solution, arguing that substantial protection only results from changes to platform algorithms and safety frameworks.

Kardefelt-Winther remarked that governments have good reason to be concerned with the risks that children face online, including bullying and exploitation. “Children are growing up in a digital world that was not designed with their rights, safety and wellbeing in mind…Age restrictions may play a role in keeping children safe, but on their own they do not address the underlying drivers of harm. They may even push children into less regulated spaces.”

He added: “UNICEF is calling for stronger protections for children, including safer platforms, better reporting systems, and more support for mental health services. We also want children to be part of shaping the solutions. Protecting children online is a shared responsibility, and governments, companies, families, and communities all have a role to play.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

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Partial presidential election results are displayed on a screen at the Zambian Elections results center in Lusaka on 17 August 2026. Credit: Gianluigi Guercia/AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 31 2026 (IPS)

On 24 August, police sealed off access to Zambia’s courts, closed the day before the deadline for petitions to challenge the results of the 13 August presidential election. The judiciary’s top official cited security reasons, but the timing left little doubt that authorities meant to block the defeated candidate’s legal challenge.

Official results gave the incumbent, Hakainde Hichilema, 60.49 per cent of the vote, comfortably ahead of challenger Brian Mundubile’s 37.87 per cent. Some results from the concurrent National Assembly vote remain pending, but Hichilema’s United Party for National Development (UPND) has also won a commanding majority over Mundubile’s National Reconciliation Party for Unity and Prosperity, part of the opposition’s Tonse Alliance.

Mundubile rejected the presidential election result and vowed to contest it in court, but an election night police raid forced him into hiding. Officers killed former minister Mutotwe Kafwaya and arrested 11 other opposition figures, blaming an exchange of gunfire and accusing Mundubile’s party of possessing weapons and planning an insurgency.

Hichilema came to power in 2021 by comfortably defeating President Edgar Lungu, whose crackdown on civic freedoms led to a polarised and violent campaign. Hichilema promised democratic renewal, pledging to strengthen human rights and the rule of law. However, after some initial positive changes, he’s overseen a slide back to the kind of practices he once campaigned against.

Pre-election crackdown

Hichilema’s margin of victory suggests he’d likely have won anyway, but the ruling party stacked the odds further in its favour while penalising the opposition. European Union observers described an ‘uneven playing field’, with misuse of state resources in favour of the UPND, voter inducements including cash handouts, heavy pro-government bias in state media, self-censorship driven by restrictive laws and police restrictions on campaign events. They also flagged a heavy and intimidating military presence at counting locations, weak security in vote tabulation and counting and a six-hour suspension of counting on election night, after which local officials appeared to be taking instructions from Electoral Commission headquarters before announcing results.

Civil society had already raised concerns about the make-up of the Electoral Commission, believing some of its members were UPND supporters, and judicial independence, after Hichilema appointed numerous new judges from UPND stronghold regions.

In December, parliament approved a law changing the electoral system. It expanded the number of constituencies and introduced a more proportional system with reserved seats for women, young people and people with disabilities. Civil society’s objections centred on the lack of consultation and the speed of these major constitutional changes, which raised suspicions they were intended to benefit the UPND.

As the vote got closer, authorities blatantly targeted opposition politicians, including by using the draconian Public Order Act. Last October, police arrested 12 people, including an opposition member of parliament, when they took part in a meeting Mundubile was expected to attend at a private home, charging them with conduct likely to cause a breach of the peace and participation in an unlawful assembly. In February, police arrested 16 Tonse Alliance members on the same unlawful assembly charge.

Opposition politicians also faced arrest for what would once have counted as the normal cut and thrust of political debate. One of the weapons authorities used was the 2025 Cyber Security Act, which expanded their power to criminalise online commentary and criticism.

In January, police arrested opposition member of parliament Miles Sampa after he alleged by-election fraud. In February, they arrested National Democratic Congress leader Mambwe Zimba over a Facebook post depicting Hichilema in a coffin. In March, they arrested Socialist Party leader Fred M’membe over radio comments about Hichilema and the political controversy over funeral plans for Lungu, who died in 2025. All three spent time in detention before being released on bail.

The crackdown even reached an event that should have showcased Zambia for the right reasons. In April, just days before RightsCon, the world’s largest gathering on digital rights, was due to open in the capital, Lusaka, the government effectively cancelled it. They postponed it at too short notice for rescheduling. Over 2,600 people had planned to attend and some were already on their way. Authorities cited unspecified concerns about some speakers’ clearances and demanded more information on discussion topics. The government evidently didn’t want debate about issues it deemed controversial, including its human rights record. Zambian officials were also reportedly pressured by China, a key investor, over the planned participation of Taiwanese civil society representatives.

Time to restore freedoms

Zambians remain proud of their democracy, which has seen three peaceful handovers since multiparty elections returned in 1991. Hichilema should get democracy back on track by restoring all the freedoms that have been compromised. That starts with reversing regressive laws typically rushed through parliament with little consultation, including the Cyber Crimes Act and others that restrict online speech. The government must also commit to respecting media freedoms and letting the political opposition play its proper democratic role.

The government should replace the colonial-era Public Order Act. Hichilema vetoed its proposed replacement, the Public Gatherings Bill, passed by parliament in May. Civil society had raised concerns about the bill’s broad granting of discretionary powers to law enforcement officers and imposition of criminal sanctions. Zambia needs a law that allows peaceful protests and doesn’t criminalise organisers and participants. Civil society has also raised concerns about an NGO Bill that would grant the government extensive powers to regulate, suspend and dissolve civil society organisations. This bill must advance no further.

Three decades of peaceful transitions made Zambia a regional democratic beacon. Keeping it one requires a government that respects dissent, and a civil society free enough to make sure it does.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

 
CIVICUS discusses Sweden’s new migration laws with John Stauffer, legal director and deputy executive director of Civil Rights Defenders, a Swedish civil society organisation that acts as a civil rights watchdog at home and supports human rights defenders in repressive contexts worldwide.

John Stauffer

What are the main changes to Sweden’s immigration laws?

The biggest change is that permanent residence will no longer be available for people with asylum status. Under the new rules, they will only be granted temporary residence permits.

This is being paired with a new law on ‘good behaviour’ for some categories of migrants, which lets the authorities refuse or revoke a permit over conduct that is not necessarily criminal, such as unpaid debts or undeclared work. And it does not only apply to new applications. Permits already granted can be reviewed too.

Citizenship has been tightened along the same lines. Habitual residence requirements have risen from five to eight years and applicants now have to provide proof of income and pass a knowledge test, including a language test. In relation to citizenship, the requirements on ‘good behaviour’ have become stricter.

Then there is the law on information sharing between government authorities, known as the snitch law. It obliges officials who handle benefits, debt enforcement, pensions, prisons and probation, taxes and unemployment services to report undocumented migrants to the police.

All this arrives at the same time as the European Union (EU) Migration Pact, which Sweden has implemented through national legislation. It came into force on 12 June and has tightened the conditions further. It is a package of 10 laws that harmonises how asylum claims are handled across the EU, with faster procedures for people considered unlikely to qualify for protection. In implementing the pact, Sweden has gone further than necessary to limit the rights of asylum seekers, for example on access to legal representation in proceedings. An expressed goal of the government is to have the most restrictive asylum laws possible under EU law.

Who is most affected by these laws?

Asylum seekers, people without citizenship and undocumented migrants are those most hit by these laws, but their reach is wider than it looks.

Under the snitch law, healthcare staff and teachers are not obliged to report undocumented migrants, but they may end up doing so indirectly. If you give birth in a hospital, the hospital must notify the tax authority that a child has been born, and the tax authority is then obliged to pass that on to the police. We already see that undocumented migrants avoid contact with healthcare providers, which severely impacts their right to health.

Then there are young people who have lived in Sweden their whole lives, with parents who came, for example, as asylum seekers. They will be assessed under the new regime once they turn 18 and, if they are seen not to have grounds for a residence permit of their own, they may be sent to a country where they have never lived.

Ultimately, the broader effect of these laws is to erode trust. Asylum seekers and, more broadly, people with a migrant background lose confidence in government authorities. That confidence has always been a cornerstone of our democracy, and one we have been proud of. Once that trust goes, it is not just the government that loses out. It is Swedish society as a whole.

What does this mean for freedoms of assembly and expression?

The good behaviour law means we are no longer all equal before the law. Something a Swedish citizen can say or do without any legal consequence can cost a residence permit holder their right to stay.

What makes this worse is that nobody knows exactly where the line falls. Legal scholars have described these laws as very broad, vague and difficult to apply in practice, so people have no way of telling in advance what might be used against them.

That uncertainty produces a chilling effect on people’s willingness to use their rights. Permit holders who are not citizens are withdrawing from public debate. They stop voicing their views and stay away from protests, because they fear that joining a pro-Palestine march or a climate protest, for example, might cost them their permit. We are, in fact, creating a two-tier system where the lives of non-citizens will be characterised by uncertainty and limited access to rights, while citizens enjoy full rights.

What’s driving these changes?

Sweden used to have comparatively liberal migration laws, but since large numbers of asylum seekers arrived in Europe in 2015, immigration laws have become more and more restrictive. This has intensified particularly since the current centre-right government came to power four years ago with the support of a far-right party, and with the stated goal of reducing the number of asylum seekers and making more migrants leave Sweden, voluntarily or by force. Agreements with repressive regimes to receive their citizens, repatriation grants and measures that will make the lives of migrants in Sweden more uncertain are means to achieve these goals.

The government has been building a narrative that connects migration to rising rates of violent crime. Using that as a justification, it has tried to build strong support for stricter migration policies and at the same time has pushed more repressive policies to combat crime, including greater possibilities to revoke residence permits for migrants who have committed crimes, including less serious crimes.

As we approach the September election, it remains to be seen whether people truly support this model. The largest opposition party, the Social Democrats, have, however, supported many of the new immigration policies. What a left-wing government would mean for asylum seekers is still to be seen. Other countries, particularly France and Germany, are also watching to see how it plays out, and some may adopt similar measures if they see results they regard as positive.

What can civil society do?

Civil Rights Defenders works to influence national legislation and the public debate, to shift how migration is understood and give a more nuanced picture of it. We currently do not have the capacity to generally support asylum seekers and migrants through legal advice, but other organisations do. However, we engage in strategic litigation, taking cases to oversight bodies, courts and the European Court of Human Rights to shape how these laws are implemented.

But our resources are limited, and they are about to be stretched much further. One consequence of the way Sweden is implementing the EU Migration Pact is that the legal support asylum seekers are entitled to through the public scheme has been cut back drastically. The people who lose that support will turn to us and other organisations for support, and Swedish civil society doesn’t currently have the capacity to meet their needs.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

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Europe: a race to the bottom on migrants’ rights CIVICUS Lens 21.Aug.2026
Migration: Cruelty as policy CIVICUS | 2026 State of Civil Society Report
Italy: ‘White supremacist concepts are entering mainstream political discourse on migration’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Eleonora Celoria 22.Mar.2026

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Lars Løkke Rasmussen (right), Minister for Foreign Affairs of Denmark and President of the Security Council for the month of August, addresses the Security Council meeting entitled ‘Food Under Fire: The Security Council's Role in Mitigating Global and Local Food Crises’, under the agenda item of maintenance of international peace and security. Credit: UN Photo/Loey Felipe

By Shuli Wong
UNITED NATIONS, Aug 28 2026 (IPS)

Across the board, UN officials and humanitarian organizations urged the Security Council to act before the consequences of food insecurity and famines hit, during a high-level open debate on Tuesday, August 25. More than 80 representatives took part in Tuesday’s conversation on conflict-related food insecurity under the theme “Food under fire: the Security Council’s role in mitigating global and local food crises”.

In 2018, the Security Council unanimously adopted resolution 2417, which strongly condemned the use of starvation of civilians as a method of warfare, as well as the unlawful denial of humanitarian access. Resolution 2417 solidified the link between armed conflict and food insecurity. Most importantly, the resolution stated the Security Council’s willingness to consider adopting sanctions against individuals or entities deliberately obstructing the delivery and distribution of humanitarian assistance. The resolution was a landmark achievement that, for the first time, treated hunger not as a result of war but as a humanitarian security threat that the Security Council is obligated to protect.

Eight years after resolution 2417 was passed, 2025 marked the highest year on record of global acute hunger, with more than 266 million people facing acute food insecurity and, for the first time this century, two famines simultaneously confirmed in Sudan and Gaza. On Tuesday, August 25, representative after representative discussed how resolution 2417 has gone largely unused.

UN Secretary-General António Guterres opened Tuesday’s session reminding the members of the sanction provisions in the resolution, stating: “This council expressed its willingness to consider information on the unlawful denial of humanitarian access and take appropriate steps, including sanction measures.” Guterres explicitly called on the Security Council “to make every effort to ensure accountability”.

Denmark’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, Lars Løkke Rasmussen, presided over the session and candidly stated how “resolution 2417 [is] a powerful tool, but its potential remains untapped, particularly when it comes to early warning.” Testament to that fact is how the resolution’s original text cited 74 million people worldwide facing conflict-induced hunger, a figure that has now doubled to 147 million people.

During Tuesday’s session, the representatives present, notably the elected members of the Security Council, narrowed in on the same point, that being that the famines occurring worldwide are completely preventable.

While discussing the famines in Sudan and Gaza, Dace Melbārde, Latvia’s Vice Minister for Foreign Affairs, called the dual crises proof that “these famines are not natural disasters. They are man-made, and they are entirely preventable”. Ms. Melbārde urged the Security Council to “consider targeted sanctions and other appropriate measures against those who deliberately weaponize food and obstruct humanitarian access,” warning that “impunity cannot become another driver of hunger.”

“This is not fate. It is a choice. And when there is a choice, there is culpability,” said Lewis Garsheedah Brown, II, Liberia’s Permanent Representative to the UN. Brown also focused on how the dual famines devastating Sudan and Gaza are not fate or acts of nature, but instead predictable results of the Security Council’s inaction.

Carl Skau, the Acting Executive Director of the World Food Programme (WFP), admitted institutional failure when it came to acting on the warning signs of Sudan’s famine. Examining Sudan’s Darfur region, Mr. Skau said: “We all saw the atrocities in al-Fashir coming, but the international community, including this Council, failed to act on those warnings.” Mr. Skau went on to say that “waiting for famine to be declared is a total failure of duty”. The famine in Sudan was compared to the crisis in 2017 and 2022 in Somalia, where early implemented Security Council-backed action helped to avert catastrophic famine.

Perrine Benoist, Co-CEO, Action Against Hunger and Member of the Global Coalition Against Conflict and Hunger (Rule 39), addresses the Security Council meeting. Credit: UN Photo/Loey Felipe

Also during Tuesday’s session, Dr. Perrine Benoist, Co-CEO of Action Against Hunger, presented figures that highlighted the level of inaction the Security Council has taken despite the universal adoption of resolution 2417. Dr. Benoist detailed how there have been more than 9,300 incidents where conflict-related violence impacted food systems in over 45 countries. These incidents include more than 3,200 bombings of markets, agricultural land and water systems.

“Time and again, its provisions have been violated by parties to conflict, while implementation by the members of this Council has fallen far short of what the resolution demands,” Dr. Benoist said of resolution 2417.

However, despite the emphasis placed on strengthening and acting on resolution 2417, not every representative agreed to the scale of the action on Tuesday. Ambassador Vassily A. Nebenzia of the Russian Federation rejected the calls from other representatives to broaden the resolution’s application. Mr. Nebenzia argued that “resolution 2417 does not need an expanded interpretation or new mechanisms. It requires country-interest application where conflict does indeed create hunger.”

For the millions living through the famines in Sudan and Gaza and the tens of millions the WFP warned could be pushed into food insecurity, the consequences of the Security Council’s inaction are not abstract.

“We cannot wait for famine or catastrophic conditions to be formally confirmed,” said Guterres. “I call on this Council to act when the warning lights are flashing.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

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Results of the vote on the approval of the appointment of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, UN General Assembly, 24 July 2026. Credit: UN Photo/Loey Felipe

By Samuel King
BRUSSELS, Belgium, Aug 26 2026 (IPS)

On 24 July, the United Nations (UN) General Assembly reappointed Volker Türk as High Commissioner for Human Rights for a further four years. Only 10 states – among them Israel, Russia and the USA – opposed the decision.

Türk is an Austrian lawyer who’s spent almost his entire career in the UN system, from field postings in Kosovo to the UN refugee agency to his present role in Geneva. Because of this, when he became High Commissioner in October 2022, there were concerns he might be more cautious than his predecessors, but he has spoken out about violations committed by the powerful. He criticised Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, demanded investigations into deaths in US immigration detention and condemned Israel’s atrocities in Gaza. He has, however, faced criticism for not calling out Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide and not speaking out enough on China, particularly concerning the situation of Uyghur people in Xinjiang.

The vote will make Türk the first person set to serve two full terms since the post was created in 1993. One early High Commissioner, Mary Robinson, wanted to stay on, but strong US resistance to her positions on its post-9/11 military interventionism and the 2001 Durban Conference — the UN’s World Conference against Racism, where Israel and the USA walked out due to its focus on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict — left her with only a one-year extension.

As a funding crisis continues to engulf the UN human rights system, continuity matters. US withdrawal from funding UN agencies, part of its broader assault on the international system in general and human rights bodies in particular, has placed the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) under serious financial strain, forcing staff cuts and reducing capacity to work in countries where human rights violations are taking place. A vacancy or a contested process would have added further disruption at a difficult time.

A rushed and contested process

The vote came unexpectedly and moved fast. UN Secretary-General António Guterres informed states of his intention to reappoint Türk without a public process, open competition or much time for deliberation. With Guterres’ second term ending this year, the move was likely intended to keep the decision off his successor’s desk and prevent opposition from building.

Most states accepted this, but the USA didn’t. It immediately moved to delay the vote, citing insufficient consultation. Ireland, speaking for the European Union, opposed the US motion, which was defeated by 63 votes to 27. The USA’s representative called the process ‘classic UN cronyism’, accused Guterres of cutting a backroom deal and warned there would be ‘consequences’. Russia tried a different tactic, proposing to extend Türk’s mandate by just 81 days, to the end of 2026, leaving the decision to the next Secretary-General. That too was rejected, by 71 votes to 19.

Argentina, Burkina Faso, Israel, Mali, Nicaragua, Niger, North Korea, Russia, Trinidad and Tobago and the USA voted against Türk’s reappointment. The list contains tight US allies, such as Argentina and Israel, and states that align with Russia, such as North Korea and the three military-run states of the Sahel, which are increasingly working as a bloc. Under the Trump administration, it’s no longer a surprise to see the USA voting the same way as Russia. Most of the states, including Nicaragua, systematically violate human rights. Russia and North Korea both resist any accountability for human rights violations, while the USA particularly objected to Türk’s criticism of its war on Iran and migration detention deaths. Israel accused the OHCHR of having ‘erased the atrocities of October 7 and betrayed UN neutrality’.

Some states that might have been expected to vote against Türk, however, supported him. Among the 144 who backed his reappointment were the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Sudan and Syria, all states subject to active UN scrutiny. This suggested that hostility to a specific human rights mandate doesn’t necessarily extend to the whole system, and even heavily scrutinised states may see value in a working relationship with the OHCHR.

A vulnerable human rights system

The 13 abstentions and 26 no-shows also deserve attention. Some were procedural, with Ecuador and Paraguay saying afterwards that they wanted more time. Peru cited concerns about limiting the incoming Secretary-General’s flexibility, though its abstention may also reflect Türk’s recent criticism of Peru’s human rights record, including laws granting amnesty to security forces accused of serious violations during armed conflict between 1980 and 2000.

Iraq, New Zealand, South Korea, Sri Lanka and Uganda all abstained. New Zealand described its position as ‘procedural rather than policy’, but the decision drew sharp domestic criticism, not least given its recent failure to recognise Palestinian statehood.

Among the smaller states that ducked a decision, some likely faced economic or political pressure from the most powerful states to stay quiet, while others may have judged themselves insufficiently protected from the consequences of taking a visible position. This means the vote may reflect vulnerability as much as it measures support for the High Commissioner. As the most powerful states increasingly throw their weight around in the international system, smaller states may have to make calculations about when they can afford to take a position and when they need to stay quiet.

Continuity as the outcome

Institutional continuity is the immediate outcome, and Türk has signalled what he intends to do with it. In a June speech, he described an ‘unprecedented, shameless onslaught against international law’ that’s causing appalling human suffering, insisted the international community must stay focused on fundamentals and declared the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the core treaties ‘ever more important’. His message to the G7, meeting nearby, was blunt: put human rights at the centre of discussions as a force for stability, not an afterthought.

Legitimacy and moral authority, however, won’t pay the OHCHR’s bills. Over the next four years, Türk must resist China, Russia and the USA as they work to undermine the UN bodies that protect human rights. The 144 states that backed Türk now carry the responsibility of turning their votes into action. They should ensure the OHCHR is adequately funded and work to bring on board states that abstained, particularly if they did so out of fear. They must show that collective commitment to human rights still counts for something.

Samuel King is a researcher with the Horizon Europe-funded research project ENSURED: Shaping Cooperation for a World in Transition at CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation.

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CIVICUS discusses the rapid erosion of civic space in Ecuador with Gabriela Panchana, an activist, communicator and founder of the En Voz Alta and Rumbo Plural digital platforms.

Gabriela Panchana

How did the legal proceedings against you start, and what stage are they at?

The current proceedings began with a thread I posted on Twitter/X on 9 June, in which I asked the US Embassy in Quito to help shed light on the murder of Monika Silva Koniuszek, a Polish human rights defender based in Ecuador who had handed over documentation on alleged drug-trafficking networks to the embassy and the US Drug Enforcement Administration. Someone accused me of speaking ‘solely out of financial self-interest’. I replied, and as a result I was charged with a fourth-class offence, which is the least serious category of criminal offences.

The proceedings were riddled with irregularities. They were exceptionally swift and involved several different judges, while observers were barred from attending. On 27 July, I was sentenced to 30 days’ imprisonment and ordered to issue a public apology. I applied to the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) for interim measures. On 14 August, I received notification of the written judgment. We lodged appeals before the three-working-day deadline expired. Meanwhile, not a single person has been arrested in connection with the murder of Monika Silva.

The harassment did not begin with this trial. Since December, four successive criminal cases have been brought against me. This has been accompanied by a coordinated campaign of online harassment and stigmatisation.

Added to this is digital surveillance. On 13 August, I received an official alert from Apple confirming that my phone had been the target of a mercenary spyware attack. The evidence is currently undergoing forensic analysis by international organisations. Given that this incident forms part of a pattern of judicial harassment and persecution against me, I have demanded the state investigate who authorised the spying and shed light on the public procurement of intelligence tools.

It’s important not to lose sight of the fact that Monika Silva handed over documentation to foreign authorities regarding networks operating in Ecuador, and now she’s dead. I have been convicted for calling for an investigation into her death. Any analysis that focuses solely on freedom of expression falls short. We must also ask what relationship exists between criminal structures and parts of the judicial system.

How else are people being criminalised for speaking out?

My case is not an anomaly. It’s the predictable application of a law designed for that purpose. Section 396.1 of the Criminal Code punishes expressions that ‘discredit or dishonour’, concepts subject to judicial discretion, with imprisonment. The fundamental problem is that it turns expression into a criminal matter.

Other cases confirm this pattern. In May, four habeas data applications – a legal remedy to demand the rectification or removal of information – resulted in rulings ordering various media outlets to remove content of public interest and issue public apologies, the same penalty that was imposed on me. In June, an investigative journalist announced he would stop covering one of the country’s biggest corruption cases after his wife was dismissed from a public job and his son lost his medical residency at a state hospital.

The wider picture is even more worrying. The IACHR’s Special Rapporteur for Freedom of Expression documented at least six murders of journalists and media professionals in 2025, as well as the use of administrative, legal and tax measures as reprisals.

Criminalisation is not limited to the press. Human rights defenders and social leaders face investigations and criminal proceedings because of their work.

What are the consequences of criminalisation?

The punishment is not just the sentence. It is the process itself. Even if I win on appeal, I have already lost months, resources and peace of mind, and I have been exposed to a campaign of digital lynching. There’s no need to convict many. It’s enough to convict one person quickly and in full view of everyone. Added to this is the nature of the punishment. Forced public apologies don’t provide redress for anyone. They force a person to say out loud the opposite of what they think. They serve as a deterrent. They seek to discipline others.

The impact of judicial persecution is uneven. I have been able to mount a professional defence and appeal to international bodies, but most of those who speak out don’t have these resources, and a fourth-class offence spells the end of their public participation. The categories of people covered by international mechanisms also leave many people unprotected. Those of us who carry out citizen oversight from our own platforms are neither civil society organisations nor the press, yet we face many of the same risks and have less support.

The most worrying thing is that the public debate has shifted from asking who killed Monika Silva to asking what Gabriela Panchana wrote. The judicial system took action in a matter of weeks against an opinion, while the murder investigation has been at a standstill for months. This asymmetry reveals the system’s priorities.

How has civil society responded, and what are its demands?

The response has been quicker and more coordinated than I expected. Fundamedios, an organisation that monitors attacks on freedom of expression, has issued three successive alerts about my case, and other organisations have supported this with statements, monitoring and advice. There’s a network that documents, challenges in court, publicises these attacks and understands how administrative restrictions, coordinated online harassment, legal proceedings, physical threats and stigmatisation combine to silence those of us who speak out.

The authorities must repeal paragraph 1 of article 396 of the Criminal Code and guarantee an independent judiciary, with transparent proceedings and hearings open to domestic and international observers. They must also establish a national protection mechanism for human rights defenders and journalists, and diligently investigate the murder of Monika Silva and threats against those who expose corruption and organised crime.

Official stigmatisation must cease. When those in power portray journalists and human rights defenders as enemies, it opens the door to all other forms of violence.

What international support is needed?

The first and most tangible step is the monitoring of ongoing cases. The presence of international observers at hearings, requests for information from the state and public monitoring of case files can change the behaviour of courts.

We also need existing international mechanisms, such as the IACHR and United Nations human rights experts, to be activated and maintained. But this requires constant monitoring.

Support must also be practical. Human rights defenders need resources for digital security, legal defence and psychosocial support. Criminal proceedings require lawyers, expert reports and time, all of which come at a cost.

It is also important to raise the profile of these cases. When a case receives public attention, those behind the reprisals pay a political price. A case nobody knows about carries no cost.

Finally, countries and organisations working with Ecuador on justice and security issues can exert pressure to ensure judicial independence is respected and expression is not criminalised. International solidarity must translate into advocacy, monitoring, resources and follow-up.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

Ecuador has been placed on the CIVICUS Monitor Watchlist, which identifies countries where a severe deterioration in the quality of civic space is taking place.

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Ecuador remains on the CIVICUS Monitor Watchlist CIVICUS Monitor 29.Jul.2026
Ecuador: ‘Defending rights should not be a high-risk activity’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Mauricio Alarcón 04.Jul.2026
Ecuador: ‘We fear the Transparency Law will be used to persecute organisations that challenge those in power’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Vivian Idrovo 12.Sep.2025

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Supporters of the Cockroach Janta party rally against the Minister of Education in Kolkata, India, 24 July 2026. Credit: Debarchan Chatterjee/NurPhoto via AFP

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Aug 21 2026 (IPS)

India’s strongman leader, Narendra Modi, has just been forced to do the thing he likes least: making concessions in response to protests.

It all started on 15 May, when the country’s Chief Justice, Surya Kant, told a courtroom that unemployed young people who protest and speak out on social media are like cockroaches. The remark, revealing the establishment’s contempt for the country’s young people, spectacularly backfired. Within days it had spawned a nationwide movement, the Cockroach Janta Party. Its central protest demand was the resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan. Pradhan quit on 25 July. But that may not be enough to satisfy the demand for change the movement has unleashed.

Birth of a movement

India has more Gen Z people than any other country. Around 407 million Indians, some 30 per cent of the population, are aged 14 to 29. They face extraordinary competition to access education and struggle to find jobs.

Kant’s remark sparked a fire. Communications strategist Abhijeet Dipke asked on social media: what if all the cockroaches came together? That question kickstarted a viral movement under a name, the Cockroach Janta Party, that playfully echoes that of the ruling Hindu nationalist party, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). What began as a satirical website quickly became a movement. Within two weeks, it had 22 million Instagram followers.

The cockroach movement fits into a broader global pattern. Recent years have seen Gen Z mobilise in numbers in many countries where governments are demonstrably out of touch and economies and political systems fail young people. Movements are characterised by collective leadership, mass protests and strategic use of social media. India’s time to join the wave had come.

The movement soon found its galvanising cause. India’s education system relies on make-or-break entrance exams, with results deciding the career prospects of millions. In the medical college exam, some 2.2 million students compete for 130,000 places. Families make sacrifices and students spend years preparing. But corruption means questions are often leaked in return for bribes. Two weeks before Kant’s outburst, the national medical college entrance exam paper was leaked and the exam was cancelled. Students despaired. Then they got angry.

Protest prevails

Protesters camped out for weeks in central Delhi, demanding Pradhan’s resignation. Volunteers supplied food, water, medicines and camping equipment. The movement broadened well beyond Gen Z, with people of all ages joining. Sonam Wangchuk, an environmental and education reform activist previously jailed for protesting, further raised the protest’s profile with a weeks-long hunger strike.

For seven weeks the government tried ignoring the protesters, and when that failed, it turned to violence. After authorities forcibly hospitalised Wangchuk, thousands of protesters marched from the protest site to parliament. Security forces responded with pellet guns and teargas, beat protesters and bystanders with batons and wooden sticks and detained many. The violence, widely documented on social media, was shocking for a country that prides itself on being the world’s biggest democracy. It was impossible to ignore, sparking protests in other towns and cities. The government was finally forced to hold talks.

Looking ahead

The government has promised fast-track courts for exam leakers and a review of the exam and education systems. In return, the movement called off the protests, having also secured a promise that no protester would face repercussions. But that’s not the way of a government that has long repressed dissent. Modi’s administration has a track record of detaining activists, using force against protests, censoring critical voices and passing restrictive laws. India has recently been added to the CIVICUS Monitor Watchlist because of its deteriorating civic space. Since the cockroach protests ended, police have detained and harassed hundreds of students and reportedly targeted their families.

Pradhan’s resignation was a remarkable event. The government had never before responded to pressure by sacking an unpopular minister. But the BJP doesn’t appear to have learned much. During a recent by-election campaign, its national president, Nitin Nabin, described protesters as ‘a virus and a cockroach gang devoted to breaking the country’.

Modi may have bought breathing space, but the underlying problems remain. The causes are both economic, with high youth unemployment and evident inequality, and political, with a high-handed government that doesn’t listen to young people or respect their right to dissent. Further protests look likely. One, sparked by similar corruption complaints over a civil service entry exam, has mobilised in Jharkhand state.

This isn’t the first time Modi’s government has bent to pressure. In 2021, sustained farmers’ protests forced it to drop farming law changes. Modi’s support fell in the 2024 general election, forcing him to rely on coalition partners. More recently, his party looked to be on the up again, winning power in West Bengal state for the first time in April following controversial changes to the electoral roll that removed over nine million names, disproportionately Muslim voters and others less likely to support the BJP. But it has just lost the by-election where Nitin Nabin repeated the cockroach slur.

The cockroach movement may present Modi’s biggest challenge to date, because it cuts across class, party and religious divides, making it much harder to dismiss. The BJP built its base among Hindus by vilifying Muslims, yet at the Delhi protest, people from both religions prayed side by side. The movement’s social media cut-through is also significant. It bypassed a conventional media largely co-opted by the BJP that typically parrots its lines and downplays other viewpoints.

The government should read the room, but there’s every chance it will learn the wrong lesson and go after protest leaders. That will be a recipe for further protests and a repeated cycle of state violence and criminalisation. If India is to live up to its promise as the world’s biggest democracy, it must deepen democratic freedoms, recognise the value of dissent and acknowledge that the young people it branded cockroaches have much to contribute to their country’s future.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

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CIVICUS discusses the state of civic and humanitarian action in Gaza with Ibrahim Arandas, a Palestinian activist and project manager at SPARK Gaza, a civil society organisation that provides humanitarian and psychosocial support.

Ibrahim Arandas

What’s life like for people in Gaza now, and what needs are most urgent?

Today, life is defined by scarcity and uncertainty. Israel has turned Gaza into something far worse than a concentration camp. It has engineered a system designed not just to confine and suffocate an entire population, but to erode people’s lives day after day, generation by generation. This is not a simple military operation but deliberate, prolonged destruction, calibrated to keep people alive, but just enough to avoid global outrage while denying every basic condition of human dignity.

The psychological toll is enormous. Aid agencies report that anxiety and severe helplessness have become the norm rather than the exception, particularly among families who have lost their homes, routines and support networks. Our most urgent needs are clean water, healthcare, shelter and mental health support.

What has changed and what obstacles to humanitarian work remain?

When the ceasefire was announced, we thought it meant the end of the war and the suffering. Before the war, two million of us lived across Gaza. We have lost friends and family, and now live in just 36 per cent of the territory.

The hardest issue we face is reaching vulnerable people with the aid they need, including basic supplies, healthcare and mental health support. Patients need healthcare, but our teams cannot reach them. Israel makes movement between areas extremely hard, particularly during periods of escalation, when near-constant closures and limited crossings determine who enters and leaves Gaza.

This is a high-risk, complex environment and we have to stay adaptive to reach the sites and people who depend on us. Every movement implies high risk, but there’s no risk register.

How has your organisation’s work evolved?

We have grown. Gaza has lived through many wars, but we’d never faced conditions like these. In Gaza, you can’t plan a month or two ahead. Things collapse, and the plan has to be redesigned every day.

In our European Union-funded project, we had to constantly redesign how we deliver programming, shifting activities and timelines and sometimes moving sessions online, because access to project sites and young people can change from week to week depending on movement restrictions and security conditions.

We work under constant uncertainty, with internet and network cut-offs overnight and contact with front-line workers lost within an hour. From this, we learned and adapted existing global standards to our context. I developed and published a framework I call ‘adaptive conflict project management’, useful for working in conflict-affected areas like Gaza. It sets out how to build a risk plan, delegate to frontline workers rather than only leaders, divide projects across areas because movement is restricted and keep every worker feeling safe and supported.

How has civil society sustained the response and what support does it need?

Coordination has been essential. One of our few sources of resilience is local organising, combined with international partners who bring resources and access to global platforms like CIVICUS. The combination of local knowledge and international backing has kept civic and humanitarian work alive under the most difficult conditions.

As a frontline worker, what I believe is most needed is sustained access. It’s not just about the volume of aid, but about the ability to plan around consistent access to people and areas. We also need investment in local capacity, not only emergency relief, so Gaza’s civil society can lead the recovery rather than only respond to the crisis. We want to lead this recovery and think beyond emergency relief.

CIVICUS interviews a wide range of civil society activists, experts and leaders to gather diverse perspectives on civil society action and current issues for publication on its CIVICUS Lens platform. The views expressed in interviews are the interviewees’ and do not necessarily reflect those of CIVICUS. Publication does not imply endorsement of interviewees or the organisations they represent.

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Gaza: ceasefire an illusion CIVICUS Lens | Article 15.Mar.2026
Gaza: ‘Humanitarian aid matters for survival, but its dynamics diminish Palestinian agency’ CIVICUS Lens | Interview with Ali Abdel-Wahab 16.Feb.2026
‘Life in Gaza’s shelters is marked by deprivation – but also by the endurance of human dignity’ CIVICUS Lens | Anonymous interview 12.Aug.2025

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